it' ' ^r"^- r:'ff ~~'"'-1. ■% L I B R.AFIY OF THL UNIVERSITY Of ILLINOIS THE HEROINE, OR ADVENTURES OF CHERUBINA, BY EATON STANNARD BARRETT, ESQ, *' L'Histoire d'une femmc est toujours un Roman," ©ccona Caftton, WITH COKSIDERABLE ADDITIONS AND ALTERATIONS. IN THREE VOLUMES, VOL. I. LONDON : PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, fUBLlC LIBRARY, CONDUIT-STREET, HANOVER-SQUARE AND SOJ>D BY OnORGE GOLDIE, EDINBURGH, AND JOHN CUMMIN G, DUBLIN. 1S14. B, Clarke, Printer, Wdl-street, London. I V^, to TUB ^' UIGHt HONORABLE ^ GEOllGB CANNING, dso. &e. &c. Sir, It was the happiness of Sterne to have dedicated his volumes to a Pitt. It is iny ambition to inscribe this work to you. My wishes would C^ be complete, could I resemble the .^^ writer as you do the statesman. I have the honor to be, Sir^ Your uiost sincere, and most humble servant, ^ E. S. BARRETT. THE HEROINE TO THE READER. Attend, gentle and intelligent reader; for I am not the fictitious personage whose memoirs you will peruse in " The Heroine ;'' but I am a corporeal being, and an inhabitant of another world. Know, that the moment a mortal manuscript is written in a legible hand, and the word End oi' Finis annexed thereto, whatever characters happen to be sketched in it (whether imaginary, biographical, or historical), acquire the quality of creating and effusing a sen- tient soul or spirit, which instantly takes flight, and ascends through the regions of air, till it arrives at the a4 Vlll MOON ; where it is then embodied^ and becomes a living creature: the precise counterpart, in mind and person, of its literary prototype. Know farther, that all the towns, vil- lages, rivers, hills, and vallies of the moon, owe their origin, in a similar manner, to the descriptions which writers give of those on earth ; and that all the lunar trades and manufac- tures, fleets and coins, stays for men, and boots for ladies, receive form and substance here, from terrestrial books on war and commerce, pamphlets on bullion, and fashionable magazines. Works consisting of abstract argu^ ment, ethics, metaphysics, polemics^ &c. which, from their very nature, cannot become tangible essences, send their ideas, in whispers, up to the IX moon ; where tiie tribe of talking birds receive, and repeat them for the Lu- narians. So that it is not unusual to hear a naitred parrot screaming a poli- tical sermon, or a fashionable jay twit- tering a compiled bravura. These birds then are our philosophers ; and so great is their value, that they sell for as much as your patriots. The moment, however, that a book becomes obsolete on earth, the person- ages, countries, manners, and things recorded in it, lose, by the law of sympathy, their existence in the moon^ This, most grave reader, is but a short and imperfect sketch of the way we Moonites live and die. I shall now give you some account of what has happened to me since my coming hither. a5 X It is something- more than three lunar hours; or, in other vvords, about three terrestrial days ago, that^ owing to the kindness of some human gen- tleman or other (to whom I take this occasion of returning my grateful thanks), I became a living inhabitant of the IMoon. Like the Miitonic Eve, almost the first thing I did was to peep into the water and admire my face; — a very pretty one, I assure you, dear reader. I then perceived advancing a lank and grimly figure in armour, who introduced himself as Don Quixote; and we soon found each other kindred souls. We walked, hand in hand, through a beautiful tract of country, called Terra Fertilitatis; for your Selenographers, LangrenuSjFlorentius, Grimaldus, Ric- XI cioliis, and Heveliiis, h'dv^ given pro- per names to the various portions of our hemisphere. As I proceeded, 1 met the Radchf- fian, Rochian, and other heroines; but they tossed their heads, and told me pertly that I was a slur on the sis- terhood ; while some went so far as to say that I had a design upon their lives. They likewise shunned the E jge\^ or- thian heroines, whom they thought too comic, moral, and natural. I met the Lady of the Lake, and shook hands with her; but her hand felt rather hard from the frequent use of the oar; and I spoke to the Widow Dido, but she had her old trick of turning on her heel, without answer- ing a civil question. I found the Homeric Achilles broil- Xll ino'liis own beefsteaks, as usual; the CD Homeric Princesses drawing water, and washing linen ; the Virgilian Tro- jans eating their tables ; and the Li- vian Hannibal melting mountains with the patent vinegar of an advertisement. The little bov in the ^Eneid had in- troduced the amusement of whipping tops; and Alusidora had turned bath- ing-woman at a halfpenny a dip. A Caesar, an Alexander, and an Alfred, were talking politics, and quaf- fing the Horatian Falernian, at the Garter inn of Shakespeare. A Cati- line was holding forth on Reform, and a Hanno was advising the recall of a victorious army. As I walked along, a mob of states- men, just created by your newspapers, popped up their heads, nodded, and Xill died. About twenty come to us in this manner, almost every day; and though some of them are of the same name, and drawn from the same origi- nal, they are often as unlike each other as so many clouds. The Buonapartes, thus sent, are, in general hideous fel- lows. However, your parliamentary Reports sometimes agreeably surprize us with most respectable characters of that name. On my way, I could observe num- bers of patients dying, according as the books that had created them were sinking into oblivion. The Foxian James was paraded about in a sedan chair, and considered just gone; and a set of politicians, entitled All the Talents, who had once made a terrible noise among us, lay sprawling in their XIV last agonies. But the most extensive mortality ever known here was caused by the burning of the Alexandrian Library. This forms quite an aera in the Lunar Annals; and is called The great Conflagration. I had attempted to pluck an apple from a tree which grew near the road ; but instead of a substance, grasped a vacuum; and while Don Quixote was instructing me that this phsenomenon arose from the Berkeleian system of immaterialism, and that "this apple was only a globular idea, I heard a squeak- ing voice just beside me cry : " I must remark, Madam, that the writer who sent you amongst us, had far too much to say, and too little to do." I looked rouiid, but saw nobody. ' *Tis Junius,'* observed Don XV Quixote. " He was invisible on earth, and therefore must be so here. Do not mind his bitter sayings.'' " An author/' continued the satirist, " who has judgment enough to write wit, should have judgment enough to prevent him from writing it.'^ '' Sir,*' said Don Quixote^ " if, by his works of wit, he can attain popu- larity, he will ensure a future attention to his works of judgment. So here is at thee, caitiff!" and closing his visor, he ran atilt at pure space. " Nay,'^ cried Junius, '' let us not quarrel; though we differ. Mind un- opposed by mind, fashions false opi- nions, and deo:enerates from its origi- nal rectitude. The stagnant pool re- solves into putridity. It is the conflict of the waters which keeps them pure.'' XVI " Except in dropsical cases, I pre- sume,'' said Tristram Shandy, who just then came up, with his Uncle Toby. "^ How goes it, heroine? How goes it? — By the man in the moon, the moment 1 heard of your arrival here, I gave three exulting flourishes of my hand, thus J^ J '^ then apply- ing my middle finger to my thumb, and compressing both with the flexory muscles, I shot them asunder trans- versely; so that the finger coming plump upon the aponeurosis — # * # * In short, — for I don't much like how I am getting on with the description — I snapped my fingers. " Now, Madam, I will bet the whole of Kristmanus's, Capuanus's, Schihar- dus's, Phocylides's and Hanzelius^s XVil estates, — which are the best on our disk,— to as much landed property as could be spooned into your shoe— that you will get miserably mauled by their reverences, the Reviewers. My life for it^ they will say that your character is a mere daub drawn in distemper — the hair too golden — an eyelash too much— then, that the book itself Jias too little of the rational and argumeU'- tative; — that the fellow merely wrote it to make the worldlaugh,— and, by the bye, to make the world laugh is the gravest occupation an author can chuse. It is no trifle, splitting the sides of people, who are not to livjtijl a thousand years after, la fine. Ma- dam, it will appear that the work h«!is every fault which must convict it Aris- totellicallv and Eclinburo^o — revievvi- XVI 11 cally, intheeyes ofninety-ninebarbati; but which will leave it not the ninety- ninth part ofagrythe worse in the eyes of fifteen millions of honest Britons; besides several very respect- able ladies and gentleman yet unborn, and nations yet undiscovered, who will read translations of it in languages yet unspoken. Bless me, what hack- ing these Critics will have at you ! Small sword and broad sword — staff and stiletto — flankonnade and cannon- ade— hurry-scurry— right w^ingand left wing But Tristram paused short in con- sternation ; for his animated descrip- tion of a fight had roused the military spirits of Don Quixote and Captain Shandy, who were already at hard knocks ; the one with his spear, and the XIX other with his crutch. I therefore took this occasion of escaping. And now day begins to decline ; and your globe, which never sets to us, will soon shed her pale earthshine over the landscape. O how serene^ tire these regions ! Here are no hurri- canes, or clouds, or vapours. Here heroines cannot sigh ; for here there is no air to sigh withal. Here in our great pits, poetically called vallies, we retire from all moonly cares ; or range through the meads of Cysatus or Gru- emberget, and luxuriate in the cool' ness of the Conical Penumbra. I trust you will feel, dear reader, that you now owe more to my disco- veries, than to those of Endymion, Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Galileus, and Newton. I pray you, therefore, XX reward my services with a long and happy life ; though much I fear I shall not obtain it» For, i am told, that two little shining specks, called England and Ireland (which we can just see with our glasses on your globe)* are the places upon whose health and prosperity mine must depend. If they fall, i must fall with them ; and I fancy they have already seen the best of their days. A parrot informs me, that they are at open Vv^ar with a prodigious blotch just beside them ; and that their most approved patriots daily indite pamphlets to shew how they cannot hold out ten years longer. The Ster- nianStarlinsr assured me just now, that these patriots write the triumphs of their country in the most commisera- ting language; and portray her dis- XXI tresses with exultation. Of course therefore, they conceive that her glories would undo her, and that nothing can save her but her calamities. So since she is the most flourishing nation in the world, I may fairly infer that she is on her last legs. Before I conclude, I must inform you how I shall have this letter con- veyed to your world. Laplace, and other philosophers, have already proved that a stone projected by a volcano, from the moon, and with the velocity of a mile and a half per second, would be thrown beyond the sphere of the moon*s attraction, and enter into the confines of the earth's. Now, hundreds have attested up- on oath, that they* have seen lumin- ous meteors moving through the sky; xxu and falling on the earth, in stony or semimetallic masses. Ergo (say the philosophers), they came all the way from the moon ; and the phi- losophers have a right to say so, for it is thought that they themselves are moonstruck by blows from these very stones. One of these very stones, therefore, shall convey this letter to you. I have written it on asbestus, in liquid gold (as both these substances are the least consumable by fire) ; and I will fasten it to the top of a volcanic mountain, which is expected to explode in ano- ther hour, Alas, alas, short-sighted Earthites ! how little ye foresee the havock that will happen hereafter, from the pelting of these pitiless stones. For, about xxm the time of the millennium, the doc- trine of projectiles will be so prodigi- ously improved, that while there is universal peace upon earth, the planets will go to war with each other. Then shall we Lunarians, like true satellites, turn upon our benefactors and instead of merely trying our small shot (as at present), w^e will fire off whole moun- tains; while you, from your superior attraction, will find it difficult to hit us at all. The consequence must be, our losing so much weight, that we shall approach, by degrees, nearer and nearer to you ; 'till at last, both globes will come slap together, flatten each other out, like the pancakes of Glasse's Cookery, and rush headlong into pri- meval chaos. Such will be the consummation of all things. Adieu. THE HEROINE. LETTER I. Ah ! my good Governess, guardian of my youth, must I then behold you no more ? No more at breakfast^ find your melancholy features shrouded in an umbrageous cap, a novel in the one hand, a cup in the other, and tears springing from your eyes, at the tale too tender, or at the tea too hot ? Must I no longer wander with you through painted meadows, and by purling rivu- lets ? Motherless, am I to be bereft of my more than mother, at the sensative age of fifteen ? What though papa VOL. I. B 26 THE HEROINE. caught the Butler kissing you in the pantry ? What though he turned you by the venerable shoulder out of his house ? I am well persuaded that the kiss was maternal, not amorous, and that the interesting Butler, Simon Snaggs, is your son. Perhaps you married early in life, and without the knov,'ledge of your parents. A gipsy stole the pretty pledge of your love; and, at length, you have recognized him by some im- probable concurrence of events. Hap- py, happy mother ! Happy too, perhaps, in being cast upon the world, unprotected and de- famed; v/hile I am doomed to endure the security of a home, and the dulU ness of an unimpeached reputation. For me, there is no hope whatever of THE HEROINE. 27 being reduced to despair. I am con- demned to waste my health, bloom, and youth, in a series of uninterrupted prosperity. It is not, my friend, that I wish for ultimate unhappiness, but that I am anxious to suffer present sorrow, in order to secure future felicity: an improvement, you will own, on the system of other girls; who, to enjoy the passing moment, run the risk of being wretched ever after. Have not all persons their favourite pursuits in life, and do not all brave fatigue, vexa- tion, and calumny, for the purpose of accomplishing them ? One woman as- pires to be a beauty, another a title, a third a belle esprit ; and to effect these objects, health is sacrificed, reputation tainted, and peace of mind destroyed. b2 28 THE HEROINE. Now my ambition is to be a Heroine, and how can I hope for success in mv vocation, unless 1, too, suffer priva- tions and inconveniences? Besides, have i not far greater merit in getting a husband by sentiment, adventure, and melancholy, than by dressings gadding, dancing, and singing? For heroines are just as much on the alert to get husbands, as other young ladies ; and in truth, 1 would never voluntarily sub- ject niyselF to misfortunes, were 1 not certain that matrimony would be the last of them. But even misery itself has its consolations and advantages. It makes one^ at least, look interest- ing, and affords an opportunity for or* namental murmurs. Besides, it is the mark of a refined mind. Only fools, children, and savages, are happy. THE HEROINE. 29 With these sentiments, no wonder 1 should feel discontented at my pre- sent mode of life. Such an insipid routine, always, always, always the same. Rising with no better prospect than to make breakfast for papa. Then ^tis, '' Good morrow. Cherry," or " is the paper come, Cherry?'* or " more cream. Cherry,^' or " what shall we have for dinner. Cherry?" At din- ner, nobody but a farmer or the par- son ; and nothing talked but politics and turnips. After tea 1 am made sing some fal lal la of a ditty, and am sent to bed with a " Good night, pretty miss,'' or -' sweet dear." Tlie Clowns ! Now instead of this, just conceive me a child of misery, in a castle, a convent, or a cottage ; becoming ac- quainted with the hero by his saving B 3 so THE HEROINE. my life — I in beautiful confusion — » " Good Heaven, what an angel f cries he — then sudden love on both sides — in two days my hand kissed. Embar- rassments—my character suspected — a quarrel — a reconciliation-"fresh em- barrassments.— O Biddy, what an irre- parable loss to the public, that a victim of thrilling sensibility, like me, should be thus idling her precious time over the common occupations of life ! — pre- pared as I am, too, by a five years* course of novels (and you can bear witness that I have read little else), to embody and ensoul those enchanting reveries, which I am accustomed to indulge in bed and bower, and which really constitute almost the whole happiness of my life. That I am not deficient in the qua- lities lequisite for a heroine is indis- THE HEROINE. 31 putable. I know nothing of the world, or of human nature; 1 have lived in utter seclusion, and every one says I am handsome. My form is tall and aerial, my face Grecian, my tresses flaxen, my eyes blue and sleepy. Then, not only peaches, roses, and Au- rora, but snow, lilies, and alabaster, may, with perfect propriety, be applied to a description of my skin. I confess I differ from other heroines in one point. They, you may remark, are always unconscious of their charms ; whereas, I am, I fear, convinced of mine, beyond all hope of retraction. There is but one serious flaw in my title to Heroine — the mediocrity of my lineage. My father is descended from nothing better than a decent and respectable family. He began life with B 4 35 THE HEROINE. a thousand pounds, purchased a fen'm, and by his honest and disgusting in- dustry, has realized fifty thousand. Were even my legitimacy suspected, it would be a comfort; since, in that case, I should assuredly start forth, at one tiniie or other, the daughter of some plaintive nobleman, who lives retired, and occasionally slaps his fore- head. Another subject perplexes me. It is my name ; and v; hat a name^^ — Cherry ! It reminds one so much of plumpness and ruddy health. Cherry — better be called Pine-apple at once. There is a green and yellow melancholy in pine-apple, that isinfinitely preferable. 1 wonder whether Cherry could possi- bly be an abbreviation of Cherubina. 'Tis only changing y into ubina, and THE HEROINi:. i»3 the name becomes quite classic. Celes- tina, Anf>e]ina, Seraphina, are a!l of the same family. But Cherubiiia sounds so empyrean, so something or other beyond mortality ; and besides i have just a face for it. Yes, Cherubina 1 am resolved to be called, nov^ and forever. But you must naturally wish to learn what has happened here since your departure. I was in my boudoir, reading the Delicate Distress, when I heard a sudden bustle- below, and " Out of the house, this moment,*^ vociferated by my father. The next minute he was in my room with a face like fire. " There !" cried he, '• I knew Vv^hat your famous romances would do for us at last.'* ^^ Fie 1'* said I, playfuliy spreading B 5 54 THE HEROINE. my fingers over his face. " Don't frown so, but tell me what these famous ro- mances have done ?'' '' Only a kissing match between the Governess and the Butler/* answered he. " I caught them at the sport in the pantry." I was petrified. " Dear Sir/' said I, " 3^ou must surely mistake.'' " No such thing/* cried he. " The kiss was too much of a smacker for that. — Egad, it rang through the pantry like the smash of twenty plates. But she shall never darken my doors again, never. I have just packed the pair of wrinkled sweethearts off together ; and what is better, I have ordered all the novels in the house to be burnt, by way of purification. They talk so much of flames, that I suppose they THE HEROINE. ^55 will like to feel them." He spoke, and ran raging out of the room. Adieu, then, ye dear romances, adieu for ever. No more shall I sym- pathize with your heroines, while they faint and blush, and weep, through four half-bound octavos. Adieu, ye Edwins, Edgars, and Ed- munds; ye Selinas, Evelinas^ Malvi- nas : ye inas all adieu ! The flames w^ill consume all. The melody of Emily, the prattle of Annette, and the hoarseness of Ugo, will be confound- ed in one indiscriminate crackle. The Casa and Castello will blaze with equal fury ; nor will the virtue of Pamela aught avail to save ; nor Wol- mar delighting to see his wife in a swoon ; nor Werter shelling peas and reading Homer, nor Ciiarlotte cutting bread and butter for the children. 56 THE HEROINE. Write to me, my friend, and advise me in this emergenc3\ Alas ! I am torn with grief at the destruction of my romances, and the discharge of my loved governess, who w^as not even permitted to take and receive a hyste- rical farewell. Adieu. Cherubina. LETTER ]!• A thousand thanks, my dear Go- verness, for your inestimable letter; and though I must ever regret our separa- tion as the greatest misfortune of my life, yet I cannot but consider it aus- picious in this respect, that it has irri- tated you to inform me of your suspi- cions respecting my birth. And so you really think I am not the THE HEROINE, 37 daughter of my reputed father, but a child of mystery ? Enchanting! And so the hypocrite calls me Cherry Bounce, and all sorts of nicknames be- hind my back, and often wishes me out of his house ? The traitor! Yes, I will comply with his desire, and with your excellent advice, by quitting the iniquitous mansion for ever. Your letter on the subject reached me just before breakfast. Heavens ! how my noble blood throbbed in my veins ! What a new prospect of things opened on my soul ! I might be an heiress. I might be a title. I might be I would not wait to think ; I would not wait to bind my hair. I flew down stairs, rushed into the parlour, and in a moment was at the feet of my persecutor. My hands SS THE HEROINE. were folded on my bosom, and my agi- tated eyes raised to his face. " Heyday, Cheriy,*' said he, laugh- ing, " this is a new flourish. There, child, now fancy yourself stabbed, and come to breakfast.^' " Hear me,^' cried I. " Why, said he, " you keep your countenance as stiff and steady as the face on our rapper.'* " A countenance," cried I, " is worth keeping, when the features are a proof of the descent, and vindicate the noble birth from the baseness of the adoption.'* " Come, come,^' said he, " your cup is full all this time." " And so is my heart,'^ cried I, pressing it expressivrly. " What the mischief can be the THE HEROINE. 39 meaning of this mummery ?" said he. " Hear me, Wilkinson,'* cried the fair sufferer, rising with dignified tran- quillity. *'• Candor is at once the most amiable and the most difficult of vir- tues ; and there is more magnanimity in confessing an error, than in never committing one.'^ " Confound your written sentences," cried he, " can't you come to the pomt ? " Then, Sir/* said I, " to be plain and explicit, learn, that I have disco- vered a mystery in my birth, and that you — you, AYilkinson, are not my real Father!*' I pronounced these words with a measured emphasis, and one of my in- effable looks. Wilkinson coloured like scarlet, and stared steadily in my face. 40 THE HEROINE. " Would you scandalize the mother that bore you ?** cried he, fiercely. " No, Wilkinson,^* answered I, " but you would by calling yourself the father of her daughter/' '' And if /am not,^' said he, " what mustyo?i be ?'' " An illustrious heiress," cried I, *' snatched from her parents in her in- fancy ;— snatched by thee^ vile agent of the diabolical conspiracy !'' He looked aghast. " Tell me then,'' continued T, " mi- serable man, tell me where my dear, my distracted father lingers out the remnant of his wretched days ? My mother too — or say, am I indeed an orphan ?'^ Still he remained mute, and gazed on me with a searching intensity. I raised my voice : THE HEROINE. 41 *' Expiate thine offences, restore an outcast to her birthright, make atonement, ox tremble at retribution!^' i thought the farmer would sink into the ground. " Nay/' continued I, lowering my voice, " think not I thirst for ven- geance. I myself will intercede to stay the sword of Justice. Poor wretch ! I w^ant not thy blood.^' The culprit was now at the climax of his agony ; he writhed through every limb and feature, and by this time had torn the newspaper to tatters. " What !" cried I, " can nothing move thee to confess thy crimes ? 1 hen listen. Ere Aurora with rosy fingers shall unbar the eastern gate ^^ " My child, my child, my dear darling daughter !" exclaimed this ac- 42 THE HEROINE. complished crocodile, bursting into tears, and snatching me to his bosom, " what have they done to you ? What phantom, what horrid disorder is dis- tracting my treasure ?" " Unhand me, guileful adulator,'* cried 1, '' and try thy powers of trage- dy elsewhere, for— / know thee /" I spoke, and extricated myself from his embrace. " Dreadful, dreadful !" muttered he. " Her sweet senses are lost. My love, my life, do not speak thus to your poor old father.'* " Father!'' exclaimed T, accom- plishing with much accuracy that hysterical lau-jih, which (oratefully let nie own) i owe to your instruction; " Father ? Oh, no Sir, no thank you. *Tis true you have blue eyes hke my- THE HEROINE. 43 self, but have you my pouting lip and dimple? You have the flaxen hair, but can you execute the rosy smile ? Besides, is it possible, that I, who was born a Heroine, and who must, there- fore, have sprung from an idle and il- lustrious family, should be the daugh- ter of a fat funny farmer ? Oh, no Sir ; no thank you/' The fat fuimy farmer covered his face with his hands, and rushed out of the room, nor left a dpubt of his guilt behind. You see I relate the several conver- sations, in a dramatic manner, and word for v^ ord, as well as I can recollect them, since heroines do the same. Indeed, I cannot too much admire the fortitude of these charming creatures, who, even while they are in momentary expect- 44 THE HEROINE. ation of losing their honors, sit down with the utniost unconcern, and in- dite the sprightliest letters in the world. They have even presence of mind enough to copy the vulgar dialect, un- couth phraseology, and bad grammar, of villains, who, perhaps, are in the next room to them, and who would not matter annihilating them with a poig- nardj while they are mending a pen. Adieu. LETTER III. Soon after my last letter, I was summoned to dinner. What heroine in distress but starves ? so 1 sent a message that [ was unwell, and then solaced myself with a volume of the THE HEROINE. A^S Mysteries of Udolpho, which had escaped the conflagration. Afterwards I flung myself on my bed, in ho}3es to have dreams portentous of my future fate; for heroines are remarkably sub- ject to a certain prophetic sort of night-mare. You remember the story which Ludovico read, of a spectre that beckons a Baron from liis castle in the dead of night, and leading him iiito a forest, points to its own corpse, and bids him bury it. Well,, owing, I suppose, to my having just read this episode, and to my haviiig fasted so long, 1 had the following dreams. Methousfht a delicious odour of vi- o ands attracted me to the kitchen, where I found an iron pot upon the fire simmering in unison with my sighs. As I looked at it with a long- ing eye, the lid began to rise, and I 46 THE HEROINE. beheld a half-boiled turkey stalk ma- jestically forth. It beckoned me with its claw. I followed. It led me into the yard, and pointed to its own head and feathers, which were lying in a corner. What a vulgar, what a disgusting vision, w^hen I ought to have dreamt of nothing but coffins and ladies in black ! At tea (which I could not resist taking, I was so hungry), Wilkinson affected the most tender solicitude for my health ; and as I now watched his words, I could discover in almost all that he said, something to confirm my surmise of his not being my father. After tea, a letter was handed to him, which he read, and then gave to me. It ran thus : THE HEROINE. 47 London. In accepting your invitation to Syl- van Lodge, my respected friend, I con- fer a far greater favour on myself, than, as you kindly tell me, I shall on you. After an absence of seven years, spent in the seclusion of a college, and the fatigues of a military life, how delight- ful to revisit the scene of my childhood, and those who contribute to render its memory so dear! I left you while you were my guardian ; I return to you with your assurances that I shall find you a friend. Let me but find you what I left you, and you shall take what title you please. Yet, much as 1 flatter myself with your retaining all your former feelings towards me, I must expect a serious alteration in those of my friend Cherry. 43 THE HEROINE. "VYill she again make me her playmate ? Again climb my shoulders, and gallop me round the lawn ? Are we to renew all our little quarrels, then kiss and be friends ? Shall we even recognize each others' features, through their change from childhood to maturity ? There is, at least, one feature of our early days, that, I trust, has undergone no alter- ation— our mutual affection and friend- ship. My servant, whom I send forward, takes this letter. At ten to-night 1 shall see you myself. Ever affectionately your's, Robert Stuart. To Gregory JVilkinson, Esq, " There,'' cries the farmer, " if I have deprived you of an old woman, I THE HEROINE. 49 have got you a young man. Large es- tates, you know ; — handsome, fashion- able ; — come, pluck up a heart, my girl ; ay, egad, and steal one too.'* I rose, gave him one of my ineffable looks, and retired to my chamber. " So,^* said I, locking my door, and flinging myself on the bed, " this is something like misery. Here is ano- ther precious project against my peace. I am to be forced into marriage, am I ? And with whom ? A man whose legi- timacy is unimpeached, and whose friends would certainly consent. His name Robert too : — master Bobby, as the servants used to call him. A fellow that mewed hke a cat, when he was whipt. O my Bob ! what a pretty mo- nosyllable for a girl like me to pro- nounce. Now, indeed, my wretched- VOL. I. c ^0 THE HEROINE. ness is complete ; the cup is full, even to overflowing. An orphan, or at least an outcast ; robbed of my birthright, immured in a farm-house — threatened with a husband of decent birth, pa- rentage and education — my governess gone, my novels burnt, what is left to me but flight? Yes, I will roam through the wide world in search of my parents; I will ransack all the sliding panneis and tapestries in Italy ; I will explore II Casteilo Di Udolpho, and will then enter the convent of Ursulines, or Car- melites, or Santa della Pieta, or the Abbey of La Trappe. Here I meet with little better than smiling faces and honest hearts. No precious scoundrels are here, no horrors, or atrocities, worth tolerating. But abroad 1 shall encoun- ter banditti, monks, daggers, racks — THE HEROINE. 51 O ye celebrated terrors, when shall I taste of you ?" I then rose, and stole into lYilkin- son^s study, in hopes of finding, before my flight, some record or relic that might aid me in unravelling the mys- tery of my birth. As heroines are pri- vileged to ransack priva4:e drawers, and read whatever they find there, I opened his scrutoire, without ceremony. But what were my sensations, when I dis- covered in a corner of it, an antique scrap of tattered parchment, scrawled all over with this frightful fragment. For and in consideration of Doth grant, bargain, release Possession, and to his heirs and assigns Lands of Sylvan Lodge, in the TreeSj stones, quarries, &c, c 2 UmVERSlTrf OF ILUNOtS 52 THE HEROINE. Reasonable amends and satisfaction This demise Molestation of him the said Gregory Wilkinson The natural life of Cherry Wilkinson only danghter of De Willoughby eldest son of Thomas Lady Gwyn of Gwyn Castle. O Biddy, does not your blood run cold at this excruciating manuscript ? for already you must have decyphered its terrific import. The part lost may be gathered from the part left. In short, it is a written covenant between this Gregory Wilkinson, and the miscreant (whom my being an heiress had pre- vented from enjoying the title and es- tate that would devolve to him at my death), stipulating to give Wilkinson "Sylvan Lodge,*' together with, "trees, stones, quarries, &c." as " reasonable THE HEROINE. 63 amends and satisfaction," for being the instrument of my " Demise ;'' and de- claring that there shall be " no moles- tation of him the said Gregory Wil- kinson/' for taking away " the natural life of Cherry Wilkinson" — " only daughter of—'* somebody " De Wil- loughby, eldest son of Thomas'* Then follows, " Lady Gwyn of Gwyn Castle/' So that it is evident I am a De V/ilioughby, and related to Lady Gwyn ! What perfectly confirmsjme in the latter sujDposition is an old por- trait which I found soon after, among Wilkinson's papers, representing u young and beautiful female superbly dressed ; and underneath, in large let- ters, the name of, " Nell Gwyn/' Distraction ! what shall I do ? Whi- ther turn ? To sleep another night c 3 ^4 THE HEROINE. under the same roof with a wretch, who has bound himself to assassinate me, would be little short of madness. Besides Stuart arrives here to-night ; so, if I remain any longer, I must endure his odious addresses. My plan of es- cape, therefore, is already arranged, and this very evening I mean to begin my pilgrimage. The picture and parchment I v^ill keep in my bosom during my journey; and I will also carry a small bandbox, containing my satin petticoat, satin shoes, a pair of silk stockings, my spangled muslin, and all my jewels. For as some benevolent duchess may possibly receive me into her family, and her son persecute me, I might just as well look decent, you know. On mature deliberation, I have re- THE HEROINE. 55 solved to take but five guineas with me, since more would only make me too comfortable, and tempt me, in some critical moment, to extricate myself from distress. 1 shall leave the following billet on my toilet. To Gregory/ Wilkinson , Farmer, Sir, When this letter meets your eye, the writer will be far, far distant. She will be wandering the convex earth in pursuit of those parents, from whose dear embraces you have torn her. She will be flying from a Stuart, to whose detestable embraces you have destined her. Your motive for this hopeful match I can guess. As you obtained one pro- c 4 66 THE HEROINE. perty by undertaking my death, yon are probably promised another on ef- fecting my marriage. Learn that the latter fate has more terrors for ine than the former. But I shall escape both. Alas! Sir, 1 once doated upon you as the best of fathers. Think then of my consternation at finding you the worst of persecutors. Yet I pity more than hate you ; and the first moment of your repentance shall be the last of my ani- mosity. The much injured, Cherubtna de Willoughby. All is prepared, and in ten minutes I commence my interesting expedition. As London is the most approved re- fuge for distressed Heroines, and the most likely place for obtaining infor- THE HEROINE. 67 mation about my birth, I mean to bend my steps thither. O peaceful shades, why must 1 leave you ? In your retreats I should still find pleasure and repose. Adieu. LETTER IV. The hail rattled and the wind whist- led, as I tied on my bonnet for my journey. With the bandbox under my arm, I descended the stairs, and paused in the hall to listen. I heard a distant door shut, and steps advanc- ing. I sprang forward, opened the door, and ran down the shrubbery. I then hastened into the road, and e 5 6S THE HEROINE. pressed onward with a hurried step, while a violent tempest beat full against my face. In this manner I Avalked four long and toilsome miles. At length, find- ing myself fatigued, I resolved to rest awhile, in the lone and uninhabited house, which lies, you may recollect, on the grey common, about a hundred paces from the road. Besides, I was in duty bound to explore it, as a ruin- ed pile. I approached. The wind moaned through the broken windows, and the rank grass rustled in the court. I en- tered. All was dark within ; the boards creaked as I trod, the shutters flapped, and an ominous owl was hooting in the chimney. I groped my way along the hall, thence into a parlour—- up stairs THE HEROINE. 59 and down^ — not a horror to be found. No dead hand met my left hand ; no huge eye-ball glared at me through a crevice. How disheartening! The cold was now creeping through my veins ; my teeth chattered, and my frame shook. I had seated myself on the stairs, and was weeping piteous- ly, wishing myself at home, and in bed, and deploring the dire necessity which had compelled me to this fright- ful undertaking, when on a sudden I heard the sound of approaching steps. I sprang upon my feet with renovated spirits. Presently several persons en- tered the hail, and a vulgar accent cried : — " Jem, run down to the cellar and strike a lisjht.'* " What can vou want of me, now 60 THE HEROINE. that you have robbed me?" said the voice of a gentleman. " Why, young man," answered a ruffian, '' we want you to write home for a hundred pounds, or some such trifle, which we will have the honour of spending. You must manufacture some confounded good lie about where you are, and why you send for the money ; and one of us will carry the letter." " I assure you,*' said the youth, " I shall forge no such falsehood.*' " As you please, master,** replied the ruffian, " but, the money or your life we must have, and that soon.** " Will you trust my solemn promise to send you a hundred pounds?** said the other. " My name is Stuart: I am on my way to Mr. Wilkinson, of THE HEROINE. 6l Sylvan Lodge, so you may depend upon my sending you, by his assist- ance, the sum that you require, and I will promise not to betray you." " No, curse me if I trust," cried the robber. " Then curse me if I write,^^ said Stuart. " Look you, Squire," cried the rob- ber : " we cannot stand parlying with you now ; we have other matters on hands. But we will lock you safe in the cellar, with pen, ink, and paper, and a lantern; and if you have not a fine bouncing lie of a letter, ready written when we come back, you are a dead man — that is all.^* " I am almost a dead man already,'^ said Stuart, " for the wound you gave me is bleeding torrents.'^ 62 THE HEROINE. They now carried him down to the cellar, where they remained a few mi- nutes, then returned, and locked the door outside. " Leave the key in it," says one, " for we do not know which of us may come back first." They then went away. Now was the fate of my bitter ene- my, the wily, the wicked Stuart, in my power; I could either liberate him, or let him perish. It struck me, that to miss such a fruitful interview, would be stupid in the extreme ; and I felt a sort of glow at the idea of saying to him, live! Besides he could not pos- sibly recognize me, since I was but eight years old when we saw each other last. So I descended the steps, unlocked the door, and bursting into THE HEROINE. 65 the cellar, stood in an unparalleled at- titude before him. He was sitting on the ground, and fastening a handker- chief about his wounded leg, but at my entrance, he sprang upon his feet. " Away, save thyself !" cried I. *' She who restores thee to freedom flies herself from captivity. Look on these features — Thou wouldest have wrung them with despair. Look on this form — Thou wouldest have prest it in depravity. Hence, unhappy sin- ner, and learn, that innocence is ever victorious and ever merciful.^' " I am all amazement!" exclaimed he. " Who are you ? Whence come you? Why speak so angrily, yet act so kindly ?" I smiled disdain, and turned to depart. " One moment more," cried he. 64 THE HEROINE. '' Here is some mistake, for I never even saw you before." " Often, often /^ exclaimed I, and was again going. " So you will leave me, my sweet preserver,'^ said he, smiling. " Now you have all this time prevented me from binding my wound, and you owe me some compensation for loss of blood." I paused. " I would ask you to assist me,'' continued he, " but in binding one wound, 1 fear you would only inflict another.^' Mere curiosity made me return two steps. " I think, however, there would be healing in the touch of so fair a hand," and he took mine as he spoke. Mere humanity made me kneel THE HEROINE. 65 down, and begin to fasten the bandage ; but i resolutely resolved on not utter- ing another word. " What kindness!" cried he. " And pray to wiion:i am I indebted tor it?'' No reply.' "At least, may I learn whether I can, in any manner, repay it.^'* No reply. " You will stain your beautiful locks." said he. " My blood would flow to defend, but shall not flow to disfigure them. Pray let me collect these charming tresses.'' " Oh ! dear, thank you, Sir!" stam- mered I. " And thank you, ten thousand times," said he, as'i finished my dis- agreeable task ; " and now never will i quit you till I see you safe to your friends." 66 THE HEROINE. '' You r* exclaimed I. " Ah, trai- tor!" He gazed at me with a look of pity. " Farewell, then," said he : '' ^tis a long way to the next habitation, and should my wound open « afresh, and should I faint with loss of blood — ^* " Dear me,'' cried I, springing for- ward, " let me assist you/' He smiled. " Yie will assist each other,^^ answered he ; " and now let us not lose a moment, as the robbers may return.^^ He took the lantern to search the cellar for his watch and money. How- ever, we saw nothing there except a couple of portmanteaus, some rust}'- pistols, and a small barrel, half full of gunpowder. We then left the house; but had hardly proceeded twenty yards, when he began to totter. THE HEROINE. 67 '' I can go no farther," said he, sink- ing down. '' I have lost so much blood, that my strength is entirely ex- hausted.'' " Pray, dear Sir," said I, «' exert yourself, and lean on me." " Impossible,'^ answered he ; "but fly and save your own life." *' I will run for assistance,** said I, and flew towards the road, where I had JMst heard the sound of an approaching carriage. But on a sudden it stopped, voices began disputing, and soon after a pistol was fired. I paused in great terror, for I judged that thesevvere the robbers again. What was I to do ? When a heroine is reduced to extremi- ties, she alwavs does one of two things — either faints on the spot, or exhibits energies almost superhuman. 6s THE HEROINE. Faint I could not, so nothing remain- ed for me, but energies almost superhu- man. 1 pondered a moment, and a grand thoughtstruckme. Ilecoilectingthegun- powder jn the cellar, I flew for it back to the ruin, carried it up to the hail, threw most of it on the floor, and with the re- mainder, strewed a train, as 1 walked towards Stuart. When i was within a few paces of him, I heard quick steps ; and a hoarse voice vociferating, "Who goes yonder with the light ?'^ for I had brought the lantern. " Fly r* cried Stuart, " or you are lost/' I snatched the candle from the lan- tern, applied it to the train, and the next moment dropped down at the shock of the tremendous explosion that THE HfeROINE. 69 took place. A noise of falling timbers resounded through the ruin, and the robbers were heard scampering off in every direction. " There!" whispered T, after a pause; ^' there is an original horror for you; and all of my own contrivance. The villains have fled, the neighbours will flock to the spot, and you wnll obtain assistance.'^ By this time we heard the people of the carriage running towards us. " Stuart !" cried I, in an awful voice. '' My name, indeed!" said he. *'This is completely inexplicable.^' " Stuart," cried i, '' hear my parting words. Never agairi*^ (quoting his own letter), " will I make yoa my play- mate/ never again climb your shoul- ders^ and gallop you round the lawn! 70 THE HEROINE. Ten o'clock is past. Go not to Sylvan Lodge to-night. She departed two hours ago. Look to your steps.'* I spoke this portentous warniHg, and fled across the common, JMiss Wilkinson ! Miss Wilkinson ! sounded on the blast ; but the wretch had dis- covered me too late. 1 ran about half a mile, and then looking behind me, beheld the ruin in a blaze. Renovated by the sight of this admirable horror, 1 walked another hour, without once stopping; till, to my surprise and dis- may, I found myself utterly unable to proceed a step farther. This was the more provoking, because heroines of- ten perform journies on foot that would founder fifty horses. However, I crossed into a field, and contrived to make a nest of hay, where THE HEROINE. 71 i remained till day began to dawn. Then, stiff and shivering, I proceeded on my journey; and in a short time, met a little girl vvith a pail of milk. She consented to let me change my wet dress at her cottage, and conducted me thither. It was a family of frights. Flat noses and thick lips without mercy. No Annettes and Lubins, or Amorets and Phyllidas, or Florimels and Fiorellas ; no rosy little fallings, or Cherubim and Seraphim amongst them. However, I slipped on (for slipping on is the heroic mode of dressing) my spangled muslin, silk stockings, and satin shoes, and joined their uglinesses at breaktast, re- solving to bear p<.tieatly with their fea- tures. On the whole, I see much reason to 72 THE HEROINE. be pleased with what has happened hi- therto. How fortunate that I went to the house upon the common ! I see plainly, that if adventure does not come to me, I must go to adventure. And, indeed, 1 am authorized in doing so by the example of ray sister heroines ; who, with a noble disinterestedness, are ever the chief artificers of their own mis- fortunes: for, in nine cases out of ten, were they to manage matters like mere common mortals, they would avoid all those charming mischiefs which adorn their memoirs. As for this Stuart, I know not what to think of him. 1 will, however, do him the justice to say, that he has a re- putable Roman nose; and although he neither kissed my hand, nor knelt to me, yet he had the decency to talk of THE HEROIKE. 7S " wounds,'^ and my " charming tresses.** Perhaps, if he had saved my life, in- stead of my having saved his ; and his name had consisted of three sylla- bles ending in i or o ; and, in fine, if he were not an unprincipled profligate, the man might have made a tolerable Hero. A public coach to London passes shortly, so I shall take a place in it. Adieu. LETTER V. '* I SHALL find in the coach,*' said I,, approaching it, "some emaciated Ade- laide, or sister Olivia. We will inter- change congenial looks — she will sigh, so will I — and we shall commence a vi- gorous friendship on the spot." Yes, I did sigh ; but it was at the VOL. I. D 74* THE HEROINE. huge and hideous Adelaide that pre- sented herself, as I got into the coach. In describing her, our wittiest novelists would say, that her nose lay modestly retired between her cheeks ; that her eyes, which pointed inwards, seemed looking for it, and that her teeth were ^' Like angels' visits ; short, and far between." She first eyed me with a supercilious sneer, and then addressed a diminutive old gentleman opposite, in whose face Time had ploughed furrows, and Lux- ury sown pimples. " And so. Sir, as I was telling you, when my poor man died, I so bemoaned myself, that between swoons and hysto- rics, I got nervous all over, and was obliged to go through a regiment.^* I stared in astonishment. " What !*' THE HEROINE. 75 thought I, " a woman of her magnitude and vulgarity, faint, and have nerves? Impossible V* '' Hovvsomdever,'' continued she, " my Bible and my Moll are great con- solations to me. Moll is the dearest little thing in the world ; as straight as a popular; then such dimples; and her eyes are the very squintessence of per- fection. She has all her catechism by heart, and moreover, her mind is un- contaminated by romances and novels, and such abominations/' " Pray, Ma*am, said I, civilly, " may I presume to ask how romances and novels contaminate the mind r" " Why, Mem,*' answered she tartly, and after another survey, " by teach- ing little misses to go gadding, Mem, and to be fond of the men, Mem, and of spangled muslin, Mem." i>2 76 THE HEROINE. " Ma'am/' said I, reddening, " I wear spangled muslin because I have no other dress : and you should be ashamed of yourself for saying that I am fond of the men.'* " The cap fits you then," cried she. " Were it a fool's cap,'' said I, " per- haps I might return the compliment." I thought it expedient on my first outset in life to practise apt repartee, and emulate the infatuating sauciness, and elegant vituperation of Amanda, the Beggar Girl, and other heroines ; who, when irritated, disdain to speak below an epigram. " Pray, Sir," said she, addressing our fellow traveller, " what is your opi- nion of novels ? An't they all love and nonsense, and the most unpossible lies possible ?'^ '^ They are fictions, certainly,'^ said he. THE HEROINE. 77 "Surely, Sir/^ exclaimed I, "you do not mean to call them fictions ?'' " Why, no/' replied he, " not abso- lute fictions/' " But," cried the big lady, " you don't pretend to call them true/' " Why no/' said he, " not abso- lutely true/' " Then,'' cried I, " you are on both sides of the question at once/* He trod on my foot. " Ay, that you are/' said the big lady. He trod on her foot. " I am too much of a courtier," said he, '' to differ from the ladies,^' and he trod on both our feet. " A courtier !" cried I : " I should rather have imagined you a musi- cian/' D 3 7S THE HEROINE, *' Pray why ?'* said he. *' Because,'^ answered I, '* you are playing the pedal harp on this lady's foot and mine." " I wished to produce harmony, >» said he, bowing. '* If you vvisli it with me," said I, ^•* you must confess that novels are more true than histories, because historians often contradict each other, but no- A^elists never do." " Yet do not novelists contradict themselves ?'^ said he. " Certainly,'^ replied I, " and there lies the surest proof of their veracity. For as human actions are always con- tradicting themselves, so those books which faithfully relate them must do the same." " Admirable !" exclaimed he. *' And TPIE HEROlIfE. 79- yet what proof have we that such per- sonages as Shedoni, Vivaldi, Camilla, or Cecilia, ever existed ?" " And what proof have we," cried I, " that such personages as Alfred the Great, Henry the Fifth, Ehrida, or Mary Queen of Scots, ever existed ? Why, Sir, at this rate you aiight just as well question the tiuth of Guy Faux's attempt to blow up the Parlia- ment-House, or of my having blown up a house last night.'' " You blow^ up a house!" exclaim- ed the big lady with amazement. " Madam," said I, modestly, '* I scorn ostentation, but on my word and honour, 'tis fact." " Of course you did it accidentally,'* said the srentleman. o " You wrong me. Sir," replied I ; *' I did it by design," 80 THE HEROINE. '' You will swing for it, however/' cried the big lady. '* Swing for it !*' said I ; " a heroine swing? Excellent ! I presume, Madam, you are unacquainted with the conriinon law of romance.*' '■ Just/' said she, '' as you seem to be with the common law of England.'* " I despise the common law of Eng- land,^^ cried I. " Then 1 fancy,'' said she, " it would not be much amiss if you were hanged.'* " And I fancy," retorted I, nodding at her big figure, " it would not be much amiss if you were quartered.'* Meantime the gentleman coincided with every syllable that I said, praised my parts and knowledge, and disco- vered evident symptoms of a discrimi- nating mind, and an amiable heart. THE HEROINE. gj That I am right in my good opinion of him is most certain; for he himself as- sured me it would be quite impossible to deceive me, I am so penetrating. In short, 1 have set him down as the benevolent guardian, who is destined to save me several times from destruction. Indeed he has already done so once ; for, when our journey was almost over, he told me, that my having set fire to the ruin might prove a most fatal affair; and whispered that the big lady w^ould probably inform against me. On my pleading the prescriptive immu- nities of heroines, he solemnly swore, that he once knew a golden-haired, azure-eyed heroine, called Angelica Angela Angelina, who was hanged at the Old Bailey for stealing a broken lute out of a haunted chamber; and D 5 82 THE HEROINE. while my blood was running cold at the recital, he pressed me so cordially to take refuge in his house, that I threw myself on the protection of the best of men. I now write from his mansion in Grosvenor Square, where we have just dined. His name is Betterton ; he has no family, but possesses a splendid in- dependence. Multitudes of liveried menials watch his nod ; and he does me the honour to call me cousin. My chamber too is charming. The cur- tains hang quite in a new style, but I do not like the pattern of the drapery. To-morrow I mean to go shopping ; and I may, at the same time, pick up some adventures on my way; for busi- ness must be minded. Adieu. THE HEROINE. 83 LETTER Vr. Soon after my last letter, I was sum- moned to sup{3er. Betterton appeared much interested in my destiny, and I took good care to inspire him with a proper sense of my forlorn and unpro- tected state. I told him that I had not a friend in the w^de world, related to him my lamentable tale, and as a proof of my veracity produced the parchment and the picture. To my surprise, he said that he con- sidered my high birth improbable ; and then began advising me to descend from my romantic flights, as he called them, and to seek after happiness in- stead of misery. 84 THE HEROINE. " In this town/' continued he, after a long preamble, " your charms would be despotic, if unchained by legal con- straints. But for ever distant from you be that cold and languid tie which er- roneous policy invented. For you be the mystic union, whose tie of bondage is passion, the wish the licence, and im- pulse the law." " Pretty expressions enough," said I, *' only I cannot comprehend them/* " Charming girl!'* cried he, while he conjured up a fiend of a smile, and drew a brilliant from his finger, " ac- cept this ring, and the signature of the hand that has worn it, securing to you five hundred a-year, while you remain under my protection." " Ha, monster !'* exclaimed I, " and is this thy vile design ?" THE HEROINE. 85 So saying, I flung the ruffian from me, then rushed down strJrs, opened the door, and quick as lightning darted along the streets. At last, panting for breath, I paused underneath a portico. It was now midnight. Not a wheel, not a hoof fa- tigued the pavement, or disturbed the slumbering mud of the metropolis. But soon steps and voices broke the silence, and a youth, encircling a maiden's waist with his arm, and modulating the most mellifluent phraseology, passed by me. Another couple succeeded, and another, and another. The town seem- ed swarming with heroes and heroines. " Fortunate pairs!'' ejaculated I, " at length ye enjoy the reward of your incomparable constancy and virtue. Here, after a long separation, meeting S6 THE HEROINE. by chance, and in extreme distress, ye pour forth your unpolluted souls. O blissful termination of unexampled mi- series !" 1 now perceived, on the steps of a house, a fair and slender form. She was sitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one side, with- in her hand. " She seems a congenial outcast,^' said I ; " so, should she but have a Madona face, and a name ending in a, we will live, we will die together." I then approached, and discovered a countenance so pale, so pensive, so Roman, that I could almost have knelt and worshipped it. " Fair unfortunate,'^ said I, taking her hand and pressing it; " interest- ing unknown, say by what name am THE HEROINE. 87 I to address so gentle a sister in misery.'' " Eh ? What ?" cried she, with a voice somewhat coarser than I was pre- pared to expect. " May I presume on my sudden pre- dilection," said I, "and inquire your name ?" " Maria," replied she, rising from her seat : '' and now 1 must be gone." " And where are you going, Ma- ria ?" said 1. " To the Devil !'* said she. I started. " Alas ! my love,'* whis- pered I, " sorrow hath bewildered thee. I am myself a miserable orphan ; but happy, thrice happy, could I clasp a sympathetic bosom, in this frightful wilderness of houses and faces, where, alas ! I know not a human being." 88 THE HEROINE. " Then you are a stranger here ?" said she quickly. " I am here but a few hours," an- swered I. " Have you money ?'" she demanded. " Only four guineas and a half," re- plied I, taking out my purse. *' Per- haps you are in distress — perhaps — for- give this officiousness — not for worlds would I wound your delicacy, but if you want assistance '* " I have only this old sixpence upon earth,^' interrupted she, " and there 'tis for you, Miss." So saying, she put sixpence into my purse, which I had opened while I was speaking." " Generous angel !" cried I. *' Now we are in partnership, a'nt we ?" said she. THE HEROINE. S9 *' Yes, sweet innocent," answered I, '* we are partners in grief." " And as grief is dry/' cried she, '^ we will go moisten it.'* " And where shall we moisten it, Maria?" said 1. "• In a public-house,'* cried she. " It will do us good." " O my Maria!" said I, " never, never!" " Yv^hy then give me back my six- pence," cried she, snatching at my purse; but I held it fast, and, springing from her, ran away. " Stop thief, stop thief!'* vociferat- ed she. In an instant, I heard a sort of rat- tling noise from several quarters, and a huge fellow, called a watchman, came striding out of a wooden box, and grasped me by the shoulder. 90 THE HEROINE. " She has robbed me of ray purse/* exclaimed the wily wanton. " 'Tis a green one, and has four guineas and a half in it, besides a curious old six- pence." The watchman took it from me, and examined it. " *Tis my purse," cried I, ** and I can swear to it." *' You lie!'' j^:\id the little wretch ; '* you know r^ell that you snatched it from my hand, when I was going to give you sixpence, out of charity/* Horror and astonishment struck me dumb; and when 1 told my tale, the watchman declared that both of us must remain in custody, till next morn- ing ; and then be carried before the magistrate. Accordingly, he escorted us to the watchhouse, a room filled with smoke and culprits; where we THE HEROINE. ^1 Stayed all night, amidst a concert of swearing, snoring, laughing, and cry- ing. In the morning we were carried be- fore a magistrate ; and with step sUf perb, and neck er^ct, I entered the room. " Pert enough," said then:agistrate; and turning from me, continued his examination of two me a who stood near him. It appeared that one of them (whose name was Jerry Sullivan) had assault- ed the other, on the following occa- sion. A joint sum of money had lately been deposited in Sullivan's hands, by- this other, and a third man, his partner; u hich sum Sullivan had consented to keep for them, and had bound himself to return, whenever both should go to- 95 THE HEROINE^ gether to him, and demand it. Some- time afterwards, one of them went to him, and told him that the other, being ill, and therefore unable to come for the money, had empowered him (the partner) to get it. Sullivan, believing him, gave the money, and when he next met the other, mentioned the cir- cumstance. The other denied having authorized the act, -^nd demanded his own share of the deposit from Sul- Jivan, who refi'.sed it. Words ensu^ ed, and Sullivan having knocked him down, was brought before the magistrate, to be committed for an as- sault. " Have you any defence ?'* said the magistrate to him. " None that I know of," answered Sullivan, " only my arm is subject to a THE HEROINE. 93 kind of a sort of jerking spasm, ever since I was bewitched by Molly Cra- iiahan the Fairy Woman ; so I do sup- pose it was a jerking spasm that knock- ed the man down." " And is this your defence?'* said the magistrate. " It is so," replied Sullivan, " and I hope your worship likes it, as well as I like your worship.'^ " So we' ,^' said the magistrate, " that I now mean to do you a signal service." " Why then," cried Sullivan, "the heavens smile on you for a kind gen- tleman." " And that service," continued the magistrate, " is to commit you imme- diately." " Why then," cried Sullivan, " the 94 THE HEROINE. Devil inconvenience you for a big blackguard." " By your insolence, you should be an Irishman," said the magistrate. " I was an Irishman forty years ago/* replied the other; "and I don't sup- pose I am any thing else now. Though I have left my country, I scorn to change my birth-place.'^ " Commit him,'* said the magistrate. Just then, a device struck me, which I thought might extricate the poor fel- low ; so, having received permission, I went across, and whispered it to him. He half crushed me with a hug, and then addressed his accuser : " Now, Sir, if I can prove to you that I have not broken our agreement about the money, will you promise not to prose- cute me for this assault ?'' THE HEROINE. 9«5 " With all my heart/* answered the man ; " for if you have not broken our agreement, you must give me the mo- ney, which is all I want/*' " And will your worship/' said Sul- livan, '' approve of this compromise, and stand umpire between us?*' " I have not the least objection,'^ answered the magistrate; " for I would rather be the means of your fulfilling an agreement, than of your suffering a punishment/^ " Well then/' said Jerry to his ac- cuser; " was not our agreement that I should return the money to yourself and your partner, whenever both of you came together tome, and asked for it ?'* " Certainly," said the man. " And did both of you ever come together to me, and ask for it ?" 96 THE HEROINE. " Never,'" said the man. *' Then I have not broken our agree- ment/' cried Sullivan. " But you cannot keep it/* said the man ; *' because you have already given the money nw^yj^ "No matter,*' cried Sullivan, "pro- vided I have it whenever both of you come together and demand it. But i believe that will be never at all at all, for the fellow who ran off with it won't much like to shew his face again. So now will your worshipful honor de- cide ?" The magistrate, after complimenting me upon my ingenious su2:gestion, con- fessed, he said, v/ith much unwilling- ness, that SuUivaii had made out his case clearly. The poor accuser was therefore obliged to abide by his THE HEROINE. 97 covenant, and Sullivan was dismiss- ed, snapping his fingers, and offer- ing to treat the whole w^orld with a tankard. My cause came after, and the trea- cherous Maria was ordered to state her evidence. But what think you, Biddy, of my keeping you in suspense till my next letter? The practice of keeping in suspense, so common among novelists, is always interesting, and often neces- sary. In the Romance of the High- lands, a lady terminates, not her let- ter, but her life, much in the same style, and with great effect ; for when dying, she was about to disclose the circumstances of a horrid murder, which, had she done, not a single in- cident that afterwards happened, would VOL. I. E 98 THE HEROINE. then have happened. But fortunately, just as she was on the point of telling all, she clianced to expend her last breath in a beautiful description of the verdant hills, rising sun, all nature smiling, and a few streaks of purple in the east. Adieu. LETTER VII. Maria being ordered to state her evidence, " That I will,'* said she. " I was walking innocently home, from my aunt's, with my poor eyes fixed upon the ground, for fear of the fel- lors, when what should I see, but this girl, talking on some steps, with a pickpocket, I fancy, ^cause he looked THE HEROINE. 99 pretty decent. So I ran past them, for I was so ashamed you can't think ; and this girl runs after me, and says, says she, ' The fellor wouldn't give me a little shilling,* says she, ' so by Jingo, you must,' says she/* *' By Jingo! I say by Jingo?'* cried I. " St. Catherine guard me! Indeed, your Excellenza, my only oath is Santa Maria/* " She swore at me like a bilking trooper,'^ continued the little imp, " so I pulled out my purse in a fright, and she snatched it from me, and ran away, and 1 after her, calling stop thief; and this is the whole truth 'pon my honor and word, and as 1 hope to be married/* The watchman declared that he had caught me running away, that he had E 2 100 THE HEROINE. found the purse upon my person, and that Maria had described it, and the money contained in it, accurately. " And will your worship,'* said Ma- ria, " ask the girl to describe the six- pence that is in it?*' The magistrate turned to me. *' Really,^* said I, " as I never even saw it, I cannot possibly pretend to describe it." " Then I can,'* cried she. " ^Tis bent in two places, and stamped on one of its sides with a D and an H.'^ The sixpence was examined, and answered her description of it. " The case is clear enough,** said the magistrate, " so now. Miss, try whether you can advocate your own cause as well as Jerry Sullivan's.** Jerry, who still remained in the rHE HEROINE. 101 room, came behind me, and whispered, *' Troth, Miss, I have no brains, but I have a bit of an oath, if that is of any use to you. I would sell my soul to Old Nick out of gratitude, at any time." " Alas ! your Excellenza," said I to the magistrate, " frail is the tenure of that character which has Innocence for its friend, and Infamy for its foe. Life is a chequered scene of light and shade " " Talking of life is not the way to save it," said the magistrate. " Less sentiment and more point, if you please." I was silent, but looked anxiously towards the door. " Are you meditating an escape r" asked he. E 3 iC2 THE HEROINE. '' No," said I, " but just wait a little, and you shall see what an inter- esting turn affairs will take." " Come/' cried he, " proceed at once, or say you will not." " Ah, now," said I, " can't you stop one moment, and not spoil every thing by your impatience. I am only watching for the tall, elegant young stranger, with an oval face, who is to enter just at this crisis, and snatch me from perdition.** '' Did he promise to come?" said the magistrate. " Not at all," answered I, " for I have never seen the man in my life. But whoever rescues me now, you know, is destined to marrv me here- after. That is the rule." " You are an impudent minx," THE HEROI.NE. 103 said the magistrate, *' and shall pay dear for your jocularity. Have you parents ?'' " I cannot tell." "Friends?*' " None.'' " AFhere do you live ?*' *' No where.'' " At least 'tis plain where you will die. What is your name ?" " Cherubina." " Cherubina what?" " I know not." " Not know ? I protest this is the most hardened profligate I have ever met. Commit her instantly." I now saw that something must be done; so summoning all my most at- suasive airs, I related the whole ad- venture, just as it had occurred. E 4 1U4 THE HEROINE. Not a syllable obtained belief. The fatal sixpence carried all before it. I recollected the fate of Angelica An* gela Angelina, and shuddered. What should 1 do? One desperate experi- ment remained. " There were four guineas and half a guinea in the purse,'* said I to the girl. " To be sure there were,*' replied she. " Bless us, how obliging you are to tell me my own news !" " Now," said I, " answer me at once, and without hesitation, whether is it the half guinea or one of the gui- neas that is notched in three places, like the leeth of a saw ?" She paused a little, and looked con- fused. " Nay," said I, " no thinking,'* THE HEROINE. 105 '* I have a long slory to tell about those same notches," said she at length. *' I wanted a silk handkerchief yester- day, so 1 went into a shop to buy one, and an impudent ugly young fellor was behind the counter. Well, he began ogling me so, I was quite ashamed; and says he to me, there is the change of your two pound note, says he, a guinea and a half in gold, says he, and you are vastly handsome, says he. And there are three notches in one of the coins, sa3^s he; guess which, says he, but it will pass all the same, says he, and you are prodigious pretty, says he. So indeed, I was so ashamed, that though I looked at the money, and saw the three notches, I have quite forgotten which they were in — guinea or half guinea; for my sight £ 5 106' THE HEROINE. spread so, with shame at his compli- ments, that the half guinea looked as big as the guinea; and I frowned so, you can*t think. And I am sure, I ne^^er remembered to look at the money since ; and this is the whole truth, I pledge you my credit and honour, and by the immaculate Wenus^ as the gen- tlemen say/* The accusing witness who insulted the magistrate's bench with the oath, leered as she gave it in ; and the re- cording clerk, as he wrote it down, drew a line under the words, and pointed them out for ever. " Then you saw the three notches?" said I. " As plain as I see you now," re- plied she, " and a guilty poor object you look." THE HEROINE. 107 *' And yet," said 1, " if his Worship will try, he will find that there is not a single notch in any one of the coins !** " 'Tis the case indeed," said the magistrate, after accurately examining them. Then turning to me, " Your con- duct, young woman, is unaccount- able : but as your accuser has certainly belied herself, she has probably belied you. The money, by her own ac- count, cannot be her's, but as it was found in your possession, it may be your's. I therefore feel fully justified in restoring it to you, and in acquit- ting you of the crime laid to your charge." I received the purse, gave Maria back her sixpence, and hurried out of the room. 108 THE HEROINE. Jerry followed me. *' Why then," cried he, shaking me heartily by the hand, as we walked along, " only tell me how I can serve you, and ^tis I that will ; though, to be sure, you must be the greatest little reprobate (bless your heart!) in the three kingdoms.** " AlasT' said I, " you mistake my character. I am no reprobate, but a heroine — the proudest title that can adorn a woman." " I never heard of the title before," said Jerry, *' and J warrant 'tis no bet- ter than it should be." " You shall judge for yourself," said I. " A heroine is a young lady, rather taller than usual, and often an or- phan ; at all events, with the finest eyes in the world. She blushes to the THE HEROINE. 109 tips of her fingers, and when mere misses would laugh, she faints. Be- sides, she has tears, sighs, and half sighs, at command ; can live a month on a mouthful, and is addicted to the pale consumption/' " Why then, much good may it do her," cried Jerry; " but in my mind, a tisicky girl is no great treasure ; and as to the fashion of living a month on a mouthful, let me have a potatoe and chop for my dinner, and a herring at nights, and I would not give a farthing for ail the starvation you could offer me. So when I finish my bit of her- ring, wife says to me, winking, ' a fish loves water,' says she, and imme- diately she fetches me a dram.^* " These are the delights of vulgar life,'^ said I. " But to be thin, iiiiio- 110 THE HEROINE. cent, and lyrical ; to bind and unbind her hair; in a word, to hh the most miserable creature that ever augment- ed a brook with tears, these, my friend, are the glories of a heroine/' " Famous glories, by dad !'* cried Jerry ; " but as I am a poor man, and not over particular, I can contrive to make shift with health and happiness, and to rub through life without binding my hair. - Bind it ? by the powers, ^tis seldom I even comb it.** As I was all this time without my bonnet (for in my hurry from Better- ton's 1 had left it behind me), 1 deter- mined to purchase one. So I went into a shop, and asked for an interesting and melancholy turn of bonnet. The woman looked at me with some surprise, but produced several ; and I THE HEROINE. Ill fixed upon one which resembled a bon- net that I had once seen in a picture of a wood nymph. So I put it on me, wished the woman good morning, and was walking away. " You have forgotten to pay me. Miss,'* said she. " True,'* replied I, " but I will call another time. Adieu." " You shall pay me, however," cried she, ringing a bell, and a man entered instantly from an inner room. " Here is a hussey,*' exclaimed she, " who refuses to pay me for a bonnet.** " My sweet friend,*' said I to her, " a distressed heroine, which I assure you, I am, runs in debt every where. Besides, as I like your face^ I mean to implicate you in my plot, and make you one of the dramatis personce m the 113 THE HEROINE. history of my life. Probably you will turn out to be my mother's nurse's daughter. At all eventS; I give you my word I will pay you at the denoue- ment, when the other characters come to be provided for; and meantime, to secure your acquaintance, I must in- sist on owing you money.^* " By dad,'* said Jerry, " that is the first of all ways to lose an acquaint- ance." '' The bonnet or the money \" cried the man, stepping between me and the door. Jerry jumped forward, and arrested his arm. " Hands off, bully,*' cried the shopman. '* No, in troth," said Jerry; " and the more yot\ bid me, the more I won't let you go/* THE HEROINE. 113 " Do you want to rob me ?*' cried the shopman. " if her ladyship has set her heart on a robbery," said Jerry, " I am not the man to baulk her fancy. Sure, did'nt she save me from a gaol? And sure, would'nt I help her to a bonnet ? A bonnet? 'Pon my conscience, she shall have half a dozen. 'Tis I that would not mind being hanged for her L** So saying, he snatched a parcel of bonnets from the counter, and was in- stantly knocked down by the shopman. He rose, and both began a furious con- flict. In the midst of it, I was at- tempting to rush from the shop, when I found my spangled muslin barba- rously grasped by the woman, who tore it to pieces in the struggle; and pulling off the bonnet, pushed me into 114 THE HEROINE. the street, just as Jerry had stunned his adversary with a blow. Taking this opportunity of escape, he dragged me through several streets without ut- tering a word. At length I was so much exhaust- ed, that we stopped ; and strange figures w^e looked. Jerry's face was smeared with blood, nothing was on my head: my long locks were hanging loose about me, and my poor spangled muslin was all in rags. " Here," said Jerry to an old wo- man who sold apples at a corner, '' take care of this young body, while I fetch her a coach." And off he ran. The woman looked at me with a suspicious eye, so I resolved to gain her good opinion. It struck me that THE HEROINE. . 115 I might extract pathos from an apple, and taking one from her stall, " An apple, my charming old friend," said 1, " is the symbol of discord. Eve lost Paradise by tasting it, Paris exas- perated Juno by throwing it.'^ A burst of laughter made me turn round, and I perceived a crowd already at my elbow. " Who tore her gown ?*' said one, '* Ask her spangles,** said another. *^ Or her hair,'' cried a third. *' 'Tis long enough to hang her," cried a fourth. '* The king's hemp will do that job for her,'' added a fifth. A pull at my muslin assailed me on the one side, and when 1 turned about, my hair was thrown over my face on the other. 116 THE HEROINE. I was just beginning to cry, when a butcher's boy advanced : " Will your ladyship/* said he, "permit me to hand you into that there shop ?*' I bowed assent, and he led me, nothing loath. Peals of laughter fol- lowed us. *' Now," said I as I stood at the door, '' I will reward your gallantry with half a guinea.'^ As I drew forth my money, I saw his face reddening, his cheeks swel- ling, and his mouth pursing up. " What sensibility!" said T, " but positively you must not refuse this trifle/' He took it, and then just think, the brute laughed in my face! " 1 will give this guinea," cried I, quite enraged, '' to the first who chas- tises that ungrateful I'^ THE HEROINE. 117 Hardly had I spoken, when he was laid prostrate. He fell against the stall, upset it, and instantly the street was strewn with apples, nuts, and cakes. He rose. The battle raged. Some sided with him, some against him. The furious stall-woman pelted both parties with her own apples; while the only discreet person there was a ragged little girl, who stood laughing at a distance, and eating one of the cakes. In the midst of the fray, Jerry re- turned with a coach. I sprang into it, and he after me. " The guinea, the guinea !'* cried twenty voices at once. At once twenty apples came rattling against the glasses. '"• Pay me for my apples !" cried the woman. 118 THE HEROINE. *' Pay me for my windows!" cried ihr rrrrliman. " Drive like a devil/* cried Jerry, "and I will pay you like an empe- ror 1" *' Much the same sort of persons, now-a-days," said the coachman, and away we flew. The guinea, the gui- nea ! died along the sky. I thought I should drop with laughter. I write from Jerry's house, where I have taken refuge for the present. I am extremely distracted, I assure you. Adieu. THE HEROINE. 119 LETTER VIII. Jerry Sulltvax is a petty wool- len-draper in St. Giles's, and occupies the lower floor of a small house. At first his wife and daughter eyed me with some suspicion ; but when he told them how I had saved him from ruin, they became very civil, and gave me a tolerable breakfast. Soon afterwards I threw myself on a bed, and slept several hours. I woke with pains in all my limbs; but anxious to forward the adv^entures of my life, I rose, and called mother and daughter on a consultation about my dress. As my spangled muslin was in ruins, they furnished me with 120 THE HEROINE. the best of their wardrobe. I bargained to give them two guineas; and 1 then began equipping myself. While thus employed, I heard the voices of husband and wife in the next room, rising gradually to the matrimo- nial key. At last the wife exclaims, " A Heroine? I w\\\ take mj cor- pular oath, there is no such title in all England ; she's a fragrant impostume and if she has the four guineas, she never came honestly by them ; so the sooner she parts with them the better ; and not a step shall she stir in our clothes till she launches forth three of them. So that's that, and mine's my own, and how do you like my manners, Ignoramus ?" " How dare you call me Ignora- mus ?" cried Jerry. " Blackguard if THE HEROINE. l!?l you like, but no ignoramus, I believe; I know what I could call you, though/' " Well ?** cried she, *' well ? saving a drunkard and a scold, what else can you call me?*' " I won't speak another word to you,'* said Jerry. " I would not speak to you, if you were lying dead in the kennel." " Then/' cried she, " you're an ugly unnatural beast, so you are ; and your Miss is no better than a bad one, so she is ; and I warrant you understand one another well, so you do !^' This last insinuation was perfectly jBufficient for me. What! remain in a house where suspicion attached to my character ? What ! act so diametrically, so outrageously contrary from the prin- VOL. I. F 122 THE HEROINE. ciple of aspersed heroines, who are sure on such occasions to pin up a bundle, and set off? I spurned the puny notion, and resolved to decamp instantly. So having hastened my toilette, I threw three guineas on the table, and then looked for a pen and ink, to write a sonnet. I could find nothing, however, but a bit of chalk, and with this substi- tute, I scratched the following lines upon the wall. SONNET, To J . Sullivan^ on leaving his House, As some deputed angel downward steers, His golden wings, with glittering nectar dew'd; Mid firmamental wilds and radiant spheres, To starless tracts of black infinitude Here the chalk failed me, and just at the critical moment ; for my simile THE HEROINE. IfS had also failed me, nor could I have ever gotten beyond infinitude. I got to the hall-door, however, and with- out fear of being overheard : to such an altitude of tone had ribaldry arisen between husband and wife, who were now contesting a most delicate point — which of them had beaten the other last. " I know^,'' cried Jerry, " that I gave you the last blow.'* " Then take the first now," cried his wife, as I shut the door. Anticipating that I should probably have occasion for Jerry's services again, I marked the number of his house, and then hastened along the street. It was swarming and humming like a hive of bees, and 1 felt as if 1 could never es* cape alive out of it. Here a carriage 124 THE HEROINE. almost ran over me ; there a sweep brushed against me. " Beauty !'* cried a man like a monkey, and chucked my chin, while a fellow with a trunk shoved me aside. The shops soon attracted my atten- tion, and I stopped to looked at some of them. You cannot conceive any thing more charming: Turkish turbans, Indian shawls, pearls, diamonds, fans, feathers, laces; all shewn for nothing at the windows. Alas ! I had but one guinea remaining! At length I reached an immense edi- fice, which appeared to me the castle of some Marquis or Baron. Ponderous columns supported it, and statues stood in the niches. The portal lay open. I glided into the halh As I looked tnxiously around, I beheld a cavalier THE HEROINE. 125 descending a flight of steps. He paused, muttered some words, laid his hand upon his heart, shook his head, and advanced. I felt instantly interested in his fate; and as he came nearer, perceived, that surely never lighted on this orb, which he hardly seemed to touch, a more de- lightful vision. His form was tall, his face oval, and his nose aquiline. Once more he paused, frowned, and waving his arm, exclaimed, with an elegant energy of enunciation ; "If again this apparition come, he may approve our eyes, and speak to it." That moment a pang, poignant, but delicious, tr^msfixed my besom. Too well I f-^lt and confessed it the dart of love. In socth, too well 1 kiiC^v that i 3 126 THE HEROINE. my heart was lost to me for ever. Silly maiden! But fate had decreed it. I rushed forward, and sank at the feet of the stranger. " Pity and protect a destitute or- phan!*' cried I. " Here, in this lios- pitabie castle, I may hope for repose and protection. Oh, Signor, conduct me to your illustrious mother, the Ba- roness, and let me pour into her ear my simple and pathetic tale.'' '•' O ho! simple and pathetic!*' cried he. '' Come, my dear, let me hear it." I seated myself on the steps, and told my whole story. During the re- cital, the noble youth betrayed extreme sensibility. Sometimes he tiirned his head aside to conceal his emotion ; and sometimes stifled a hysterical laugh of agony. THE HEROINE. 127 I ceased, be heaved a profound sigh, and begged to know whether I was quite certain that I had ten thousand pounds in my power; — 1 replied, that as Wilkinson's daughter, 1 certainly had ; but that the property must de- volve to some one else, as soon as I should prove myself a nobleman's daughter." He then made still more accurate in- quiries about it ; and having satisfied himself: *' Beshrew my heart T* exclaimed he ; *' but I will avenge your injuries ; and ere long you shall be proclaimed and acknowledged the Lady Cheru- bina De Willoughby. Meantime, as prudence demands that you should lie concealed from the search of your ene- mies, hear the project which 1 pro- F 4t ISS THE HEROINE. pose. I lodge in Drury-lane, an ob- scure street ; one apartment of the house is unoccupied, you can hire it, and remain there, a beautiful recluse, till fortune and my indefatigable efforts shall rescue from oppression the most enchanting of her sex.'* He spoke, and seizing my hand, car- ried it to his lips. '* What !" cried I, " do you not live in this castle, and are you not its heir ?" '* This is no castle, '^ said he, " but Covent Garden Theatre.'' *' And you ?" asked I with anxiety. " Am an actor," answered he. '' And your name?'^ '' Is Abraham Grundy." " Then, Mr. Abraham Grundy, allow me to have the satisfaction of wishing you a very good evening.'* THE HEROINE. 129 " Stay !" cried he, detaining me, " and you shall know all. My extrac- tion is illustrious, and my real name Lord Allamont Mortimer Montmoren- ci. But, like you, I am enveloped in a cloud of mysteries. Hereafter I will acquaint you with the most secret par- ticulars of my life; but at present you must trust to my truth. Truth is the tie which binds society together, and those who have honour themselves, are ever forward to confide in the— in the —the—' " Amiable Montmorenci !'^ exclaim- ed I, giving him my hand, '' I repose implicit credence in your disclosure, and I throw myself on your protec- tion.'' " Now," said he, " you must pass at these lodgings as my near relation, or they will not admit you.'* F i 130 THE HEROINE. At first, I hesitated at deviating from veracity; but soon consented, on re- collecting, that though propriety makes heroines begin with praising truth, ne- cessity makes them end with being the greatest story-tellers in the world. During our walk to the lodgings, Montmorenci instructed me how I should play my part. On our arrival, he introduced me to the landlady, who was about fifty, and who looked as if the goddess of fasting had bespoken her for a handmaid. With an amiable effrontery, and a fine easy flow of falsehood, he told her, as we had concerted, that I was his second cousin, and an orphan; and that I had come to Town for the purpose of procuring, by his interest, an appoint- ment at the Th'jatre. The landlady said she would move THE HEROINE. 131 heaven and earth, and her own bed, for so ii^ood a 2:entleman ; and then consent- ed to give me her sleeping-room on the lower floor, at some trifle or other, — I forget what. I have also the use of a parlour adjoining it. There is, how- ever, nothing mysterious in these chambers, but a dark closet belono^ins: to the parlour, whither I may fly for refuge, when pursued by my persecu- tors. Thus, my friend, the plot of my his- tory begins to take a more interesting shape, and a fairer order of misfortune opens upon me. Trust me, there is a taste in distress as well as in millinery. Far be from me the loss of eyes or limbs, the sufferings of the pillory, or the grossness of a jail-fever. I would be sacrificed to the lawless, not to the 135 THE HEROINE. laws; dungeoned in the holy Inquisi- tion, not clapped into Bridewell ; and recorded in a Novel, not in the New- gate Calender. Yes, my Biddy, sensations hitherto unknown now heave my bosom, vary the carnation of my cheeks, and irra- diate my azure eyes. I sigh, gaze on vacancy, start from a reverie; now bite, now moisten my lip, and pace my chamber with unequal steps. Too sure I am deeply, distractedly in love, and Altamont Mortimer Montmorenci is the first of men. Adieu. THE HEROINE. 13S LETTER IX. The landlady, his Lordship, and an- other lodger, are accustomed to dine in common; and his lordship persuaded me to join the party. Accordingly, just as I had finished my last letter, dinner was announced ; so I tripped up stairs, and glided into the room. You must know I have practised tripping, gliding, flitting, and tottering,with great success. Of these, tottering ranks first, as it is the approved movement of heroic distress. " 1 wonder where our mad poet can be ?** said the hostess ; and as she spoke, an uncouth figure entered, muttering in emphathic accents : — *' The hounds around bound on the sounding ground." 134? THE HEROINE. He started at seeing me, and when introduced by his Lordship, as Mr. Hig- ginson, a fellow-lodger, and a celebrat- ed poet, he made an unfathomable bow, rubbed his hands, and reddened to the roots of his hair. This personage is tall, gaunt, and muscular; with a cadaverous counte- nance, and smutty hair hanging in strait strings. He seems to be one of those men who spend their lives in learnins: how the Greeks and Romans lived; how^ they spoke, dressed, ate; what were their coins and houses, &c, ; but neglect acquainting them- selves with the manners and customs of their own limes. Montmorenci tells me that his brain is affected by excessive study; but that his manners are harniless. At dinner, his Lordship looked all, THE HEROINE. 1 5j said all, did all, which conscious no- bility, united with ardent attachment, could inspire in a form unrivalled, and a face unexcelled. I perceived too that the landlady regarded him with eyes of tender attention, and languishing al- lurement, but in vain. As to Higginson, he did not utter a word during dinner, except ask ins: ior a bit of lambkin; but he preserved a perpetuity of gravity in his lace, and stared at me t,he whole time, with a stupid and reverential fixedness. When I spoke, he stopped in whatever attitude he happened to be; whether with a glass at his mouth, or a fork half lifted to it. After dinner, I proposed that each of us should relate our histories; an use- ful custom established by heroines, who 136 THE HEROINE. seldom fail of finding their account in it, and discovering either a grandmo- ther or a murder. Thus too, the con- fession of a monk, the pratile of an old woman, or the half-eaten words of a parchment, are the certain forerunners of virtue vindicated, vice punished, rights restored, and matrimony made easy. The landladv was asked to besfin. " 1 have nothing to tell of myself,'' said she, " but that my mother left me this house, and desired me to look out fpr'a good husband, Mr. Grundy; and Lam not as old as I look ; for 1 have Jiad my griefs, as well as other folks, and every tear adds a year, as they s?y ; and 'pon my veracity, Mr. Grundy, I was but thirty-two last month. And my bitterest enemies never impeached THE HEROINE. 137 my character, that is what thry did'nt, nor coukrnt ; they dare'nt to my face. I am a perfect snowdrop for purity. Who presumes to go and say that a lord left me an annuity or any such abomination? Who, I ask? The wretches! But I got a prize in the lottery. So this is all I can tell of myself; and, Mr. Grundy, your health, and a good wife to you. Sir." Afur this eloquent morsel of biogra- phy, 1 requested that Higginson would recount his adventures; and he read a sketch, which was to have accompa- nied a volume of poems, only unfor- tunately the booksellers refused to publish either. I copy it for you. 13S THE HEROINE. MEMOIRS OF JAMES HIGGLNSON BY HIMSELF. " Of the lives of poets, collected from posthumous record, and oral tra- dition, as little is known with certain- ty, much must be left to conjecture. He, therefore, who presents his own memoirs to the public, may surely merit the reasonable applause of all, whose minds are emancipated from the petulance of envy, the fastidiousness of hypercriticisin, and the exacerba* tion of party. " I was born in the year \77U ^^ 24, Swallow Street; and should the curious reader wish to examine the mansion, he has every thing to hope from the alert urbanity of its present THE HEROINE. 139 landlord, and the civil obsequiousness of bis notable lady. He who gives ci- vilit}^, gives what costs him little, while remuneration may be multiplied in an indefinite ratio. " My parents were reputable to- bacconists, and kept me behind the counter, to negociate the titillating dust, and the tranquillizing quid. Of genius, the first spark which I elicited, was my reading a ballad in the shop, while the woman who sold it to me was stealing a canister of snufF. This specimen of mental abstraction shewed that I would never make a good trades- man ; but it also evinced that I would make an excellent scholar. A tutor was accordingly appointed for me ; and during a triennial couise of study, I had passed from the insipidity of th« 140 THE HEROINE. incipient hic^ Ikbc^ hoc, to the music of a Virgil, and to the thunder of a Demosthenes. *' Debarred by my secluded life from copying the polished converse of high society, 1 have at least endea- voured to avoid the vulgar phraseology of low ; and to discuss the very wea- ther with polysyllabical ratiocination. " For illustrations of my juvenile character, recollection affords me but small materiality. That 1 have always disliked the ceremony of diurnal ablu- tion, and a hasty succession of linen, is a truth, which he who has a sen- sitive texture of skin will readily credit; which he who will not credit, may, if he pleases, deny; and may, if he can, controvert. Life, among its quiet blessings, can boast of few things more THE HEROINE. 141 comfortable than indifference towards dress. " To honey with my bread, nnd to apple-sauce with my goose, I ncc/e ever felt a romantic attachment, result- ing from the classical allusions which they inspire. That man is little to be envied, whose honey would not re- mind him of the Hyblean honey, and whose apple-sauce vvould not suggest to him the golden appie. *' But notwithstanding my cupidity for such dainties, 1 have that happy adaptation of taste, which can banquet, with delight, upon hesiernal offals; can nibble ignominious radishes, Of masticate superannuated mutton. " My first series of teeth I cut at the customary time, and the second succeeded them w^ith sufficient punc- 142 THE HEROINE. tuality. This fact I had from my mamma. " My first poetical attempt was an epitaph on the expiration of my tutor. EPITAPH. 19 Here lies the body of John Tonikins, \vh< Departed this life, aged fifty-two ; After a long and painful illness, that He bore with Christian fortitude, tho' fat. He died lamented deeply by this poem, And all who had the happiness to know him." *' The first Latin verse which I ever composed was this : " Fert roscos rores oriens Aurora per oras. " And my tutor assured me that it was the most roaring line in the world. " These compositions my father did not long survive; and mamma, t@ THE HEROINE. 143 the management of the business feel- ing quite unequal, relinquished it al- together, and retired with the respect- able accumulation of a thousand pounds. " I still pursued my studies, and from time to time accommodated con- fectionaries and band-boxes with printed sheets, which the world might have read, had it pleased, and might have been pleased with, had it read. " On a pretty little maid of mam- ma's, I made my next poetical effort, which 1 present to the reader. TO DOROTHY PULVLRTAFT. If Black-sea, W hitc-sta, Red-sea ran One title of ink to Ispahan ; If all the geese iu Lincoln fens, Produc'd spontaneous, well-made pens ; If Ho! and old, or Hjllau^l neiv. One wond'rous sheet of pa'ier giew; 144 THE HEROINE. Could I) by stenographic power, Write hventy libraries an hour; And should I sing but half the grace Of half a freckle on thy face ; Each syllable I wrote, should reach From Inverness to Bognor's beach ; Each hairstroke be a river llhiue. Each verse an equinoctial line. " Of the girl, an iinmediate dismis- sion ensued ; but for what reason, let the researches of future biographers decide. " At length, having resolved on writing a volume of Eclogues, I under- took an excursion into the country to learn pastoral manners. An ampu- tated loaf, and a contracted Theocritus, constituted my companions. " In vain I questioned the youths and maidens about their Dara^^'is and Delias; their Dryadr, and Hama- dryads; their Amaboean coatentions THE HEROINE. 145 and amorous incantations. When I talked of Pan, they asked me if it was a pan of milk ; when I requested to see the pastoral pipe, they shewed me a pipe of tobacco ; when I spoke of satyrs wnth horns, they bade me go to the husbands ; and when I spoke of fawns with cloven heel, they bade me go to the Devil. I met wrinkled shep- herdesses, and humpy milkmaids: I recumbed on a bank of cowslips and primroses, and my features were trans- pierced by w^asps, and ants, and nettles* I fell asleep under sunshine, and awoke under a torrent of rain. Dripping and disconsolate, I returned to my mam- ma, quailed some whey; and since that misadventurous perambulation have never ruralizod again. To him who subjects himself to a recurrence VOL. I. a 146 THE HEROINE. of disaster, the praise of boldness may possibly be accorded, but the praise of prudence must certainly be denied. " A satirical Bucolic, however, was the fruit of this expedition. It is ep- tituled Antiquated Amours, and is designed to shew that passions which are adapted to one time of life appear ridiculous in another. The reader shall have it. ANTIQUATED AMOURS. AX ECLOGUE. *Tis eve. The sun his ardent axle cools In ocean. Dripping geese shake off the pools. An elm men's shadows measure by the sun ; The shattered leaves are rustling as they run ; While two antiques, a bachelor and maid, Sit amorous under an old oaken shade. He (for blue vapours damp the scanty grass) Strews fodder underneath the hoary lass; THE HEROINE. 147 Then thus, — O matchless piece of season'd clay, 'Tis Autumn, all things shrivel and decay. Yet as in withered Autumn, charms we spe, Say, faded maiden, may we not in thee ? What tho' thy cheek ha?e furrows ? ne'er de- plore ; For wrinkles are the dimples of threescore : Come then, age urges, hours have winged feet^ Ah ! press the wedding ere the winding sheet. To clasp that waist enwrapt in silken fold, Of woof purpnreal flowered with radiant gold ^ Then, after stately kisses, to repair That architectural edifice of hair, These, theic are blessings. — O my grey de- light, O venerable nymph, O painted blight, Give me to taste of these. By Heaven above, My members tremble less with years than love; Tho', while ray husky whispers creak uncouth, My words flow unobstructed by a tooth. Come then, a^e urges, hours have winged feet, Ah ! press the wedding ere the winding sheet. Come, thou wilt ne'er provtke crimconic law, Nor lie, maternal, on the pale-eyed straw. G 2 148 THE HEROIKE. Come, and in formal frolic intertwine. The braided silver of thy hair with mine. Then sing some bibulous and leering glee. And quaif the grape upon my pranksome knee. The wine loquacious let no brook dilute; 'Tis drinking water makes the fishes mute. Come then, age urges, hours have winged ft et; Ah ! press the wedding, ere the v/inding sheet. Thin as the spectre of a famished eel, He spoke, and coughing shook from head to heel. Sharpening the blunted glances of her eyeSj The -virgin a decrepid ogle plies. Then stretches unused simpers, which shew plain Her passion, and some teeth that still remain. Innocent pair'. But now the rain begins, So both knot kerchiefs underneath their chins. And homeward haste. Such loves our Poet wrote, III the patch'd poverty of half a coat; Then diadem'd with quills his brow sublime, Magnanimously mad in mighty rhime. THE HEROINE. 149 *' Whether the public will admire my works, as much as my mamma does, far be froui me to determine. If they canuot boast of wit and judg- ment, to the praise of truth and mo- desty they may at least lay claim. To be unassuming in an age of impudence, and veracious in an age of mendacity, is to combat with a sword of glass against a sword of steel; the transpa- rency of the one may appear more beautiful than the opacitj^of the other ; yet let it be recollected, that the trans- parency is accompanied with brittleness, and the opacity with consolidation." This evidence of a perverted intel- lect being read, my turn came next, and I repeated the fictitious tale that Montmorenci had taught me. He con- G 3 150 THE HEROINE. firmed it; and when asked to relate his own life, gave us, with great tnste, such a natural narrative of a man liv- ing on his wits, that any one who knew not his noble origin must have believed it. Soon afterwards he repaired to the Theatre, and as I was now alone with Higginson, I determined to discover his real character ; for his countenance belies his memoirs, and bespeaks the villain. Should he prove one, he may conduce to the horror and romance of ray story, " Your life, Mr. Higginson," said I, '' has not near so much of the terrible in it, as I had expected from your ap- pearance; for, to do you justice, you have a most fatal face —pale and 'grim to a degree.'* THE HEROINE. 131. *' Madam/* returned he, with evi- dent agitation, *' nny mamma says of my face, that though not regularly handsome, 'tis extremely interesting." " Why now,'' cried I, " instead of the Hesperian curls, and slender eye- brows of a lover, have you not the bushy overshadowing eyebrows, and lank, raven hair of an assassin ? Nay, start not, but answer me candidly — for upon my honour you may find your account in it ;■ — can yon handle a dag- ger?" " Dear, dear, dear !" muttered he, and made a precipitate retreat from the room. As sure as fate, the man is an as- sassin. Adieu. G 4 lo2 THE IlEROINI.:. LETiCll X, This morning, soon -after breakfast, I heard a gentle knocking at my door, and, to my great astonishment, a i'lgure, cased in shining armour, entered. Oh, ye coiiscious bliislics, it was my Mont- morenci ! A plume of white feathers nodded on his hehnet, and neither spear nor shield were wanting, " I come,'* he cried, bending upon one knee, and taking my hand ; '^ I come in the ancient arnionr of my fa- mily, to perform my promise of re- counting my melancholy memoirs.'^ *' My lord,'' said 1, " rise and be seated. Cherubina knows how to ap- preciate the lionour that jNlontmorenci confers." THE HEROINE. 1j3 He bowed; and having laid aside his spear, shield, and helnaet, he placed himself by me on the sofa, and began his interesting history. " All was dark. The hurricane howl* ed, the wet rain fell, and the thunder rolled in an awful and Ossianly man- ner. *' On a beetling rock, lashed bv the Gulph of Salerno, stood II Castello di Grimgothico. " My iads, are your carbines charged* and your sabres sharpened ?' cried Sti- letto. "If the}^ an't, we might load our carbines with this hail, and sharpen our sabres against this northwind/ cried Poignardi. " The wind is east-south-east/ cried Daggeroni. G 6 1^4 THE HEROINE. '• At that moment the bell of Grim- gothico tolled one. The sound vibrated through the long corridors, the spiral staircases, the suites of tapestried apart- ments, and the ears of the personage who has the honour to address you. Much alarmed, I started from my couch ; but conceive my horror when 1 beheld my chamber filled w^ith ban- ditti ! They were sent by Napoleon (that awful oddity) to dispatch me, because of my glorious struggle against him in Italy. " Snatching my faulchion, I flew to the armoury for my coat of mail. The bravos rushed after me ; but I fought and dressed, and dressed and fought, till I had perfectly completed my un- pleasing toilette. ^'^ AJack ! there lies more peril in thine eye, TIiLM twenty of their swords." THE HEROINE. 1;55 " To describe the contest that follow- ed, were beyond the pen of an Anacreon. The bullets flew round me, thick as hail, '' And whistled as they went for want of thought." *' At length I murdered my way down to my little skiff, embarked in it, and arrived at this island. As I first touched foot on its chalky beach, ' Hail, happy land,' cried I, ^ hail, thrice hail!* " There is no hail here, Sir,' said a child running by; but come with me, and I will shew you a wedding.' '' And who are to be married ?* asked I, lifting the little innocent in my arms. " The Marquis de Furioso, and the Lady Sympathina, daughter to Baron 1^6 THE HEROINE. Hildebrand,' answered little Billy. ' Love is a primary principle, incul- cated on the humaa heart, and consub- stantiated with oui' beings/ And so saying, he playfully belabour^^d me with an infinitude of small thumps. " Happy childhood ! — Ah, if when vitiated by the vile world, man, misera- ble man, could recall — recall — pool But to continue: '' As 1 walked towards the chapel, my heart dilated at beholding the pic- turesque scenery around. On the left were plantations or tufted turnips, on the right the venerable grandeur of a dilapidated dog- kennel, and every where the eye caught monstrous mountains, and minute daisies ; while grou|5s of children and chickens added hilarity to the landscape. Rural beauties vievate THE HEROINE. \57 the soul to virtue, and virtue alone is true nobility. " At length 1 reached the chapel, and found the ceremony about to begin. But 1 must describe Lady Sympathina. Perhaps lier face was not perfect, but it was more — it was nterestiiig, it was oval. Her eyes were of the real, ori- ginal, old blue, and her eyelashes of the best silk. The roses of York and Lan- caster united in her cheek, and a nose of the Grecian order surmounted the whole. She was habited in white dra- pery. Ten signs of the Zodiac, worked with spangles, sparkled over it; but Virgo was omitted at her own desire, and the bridegroom stipulated to dis- pense'with Capricorn. Sweet delicacy ! " And now the ceremony had com- menced, and was passing off with great \5S THE HEROINE. spirit, till, in an evil moment, the bride happened to glance at me. I stood leaning on my sword. Seducing sweet- ness dwelled in my smile. She shrieked, turned pale : ' Comment vous portez vous,' cried she, as she rushed into my astonished arms, with distracted tresses, and a look that would have shocked the Humane Society. " This, this is he,' she cried, ' who hath nightly haunted my dreams. This, this is my destined husband. Marquis De Furioso, never will I wed thee!' " Flattered by her preference, I depo- sited a kiss on her cheek, and a blush was the rosy result. I therefore re. peated the application. The domestics tore her from me. 'To arms!' cried the Mareschal: little Billy began screaming prodigiously for an urchin THE HEROINE. 159 of his age, and the Marquis De Furioso, bowing gracefully to the bride, stabbed himself to the heart. " The bride was carried ofFin a swoon, and from continual weeping, fell ill of an inverted eyelash. " Meantime I was hurraed from the chapel, and conveyed to the spectral chamber, where I strained my left leg in the composition of an extatic ode. " One night I had thrown myself on the bed, to draw upon the contempla- tion of future misfortune for a supply of that melancholy which my immedi- ate exigencies demanded, when to my particular consternation, a winged eye- ball began flying about my face. " Say little foolish fluttering thing.'» ^' Much disconcerted,! walked to the 160 THE HEROINE. glas?. and was sleeking my slender brow with my finger, wiienlo! an impert'r nent apparition peeped over my shoiil" der, and made faces at me. 1 felt of- fended, and determined on asserting my dignity. *' Is it not enough/ said I, with an elevated voice, 'to be harassed by beings of this, life, but those of the life to come must interfere? En verite, I would advise a certain inhabitant of a certain world (not the best, I fancy), to think less of my affairs, and more of his own.* " The ghost looked coni\ised, and adopted invisibility. " At that momenta sudden thought struck me. " Let me escape!" said I. *' Gods, what a thouglit was there I'' THE HEROINE. 161' *' I then contrived this ingenious mode of accomplishing my object. My chamber had a window . i opened it, and got out at it. During eighteen months afterwards, I wandered about the coun- try, an itinerant beggar; for Napoleon had confiscated ail my patrimony. '* One day, the cattle lay panting under the broad umbrage; the sun had burst into an immoderate fit of sf)len- dour, and the struggb'ng l)rook chicled the matted arass for obstructing^ it. I sat beside a hedge, and began eating wjid strawberries; when lo ! a form, flexile as the flame that ascends from a censer, and undulates with the siohs of a dying vestal, flitted inaudible by me, nor crushed the daisies as it trod. What a divinity! she was fresli as the AnadyomeTie of Apelles, and beautiful 162 THE HEROINE. as the Gnidus of Praxitiles, or the Helen of Zeuxis. Her eyes, which were sky-blue—*' " Sir/' said I, " you need not mind her eyes : 1 dare say they were blue enough. But pray now, \vho was this immortal doll of your's ?'' " Who !" cried he. " lYhy who but — shall I speak it? V/ho but — the Lady Cherubina De Wil- LOUGHBY V^ most useful members are, not actors who merely mimic^ or writers v/ho merely describe, but heroes and heroines, who really perform/' '' If you mean the heroes and hero- ines of romance,'' said Stuart, " they are useful certainly; but it is in teach- ing us what we should shun^ not what we should imitate. The heroine quits a comforrrible home^ takes extreme pains to lose her character, and none to recover it; blushes by the chapter; mm after weeping tears enough to float her work'basket, weds some captious, passionate, and idle hero." *' Better," cried I, '* than remain a doa:iesticated rosy little Miss, who THE HEROINE. 223 romps with the squire, plays an old tune upon an old piano, and reads prayers for the good family — servants and all. At last marrying some honest gentleman, who resides on his saddle ; she degenerates into a dangler of keys and whipper of children ; trots up and down stairs, educates the poultry, and superintends the architecture of pies." " Now^ for my part/^ said Stuart, *' I would have a young lady neither a mere homely drudge, nor a heroic sky- rocket, let off into the clouds. I would instruct her heart and head, as well as her fin.ofers and feet. She should be at once the ornament of the social group^ and the delight of the domestic circle; abroad attractive, at home endearing; the enchantress to whom levity would K 4 224 THE HEROINE. apply for mirth J and wisdom for admo- nition ; and her mirth should be grace' fuL and her admonition fascinating. Yv^hen solitary^ she should have the power of contemplation, and if her needle broke, she should be capable of finding resource in a book. Finally, she should present a proof, that wit is not inconsistent with good-nature, nor liveliness with good-sense; and that to make the Virtues be admired and imi- tated, they ought to be accompanied by the Graces." " So much for the Heroine/' said I. ** Now what is a ilero ?" '' The first and best of men,'* an- swered he. '' His proper province is to keep the wheels of a Novel going, by misconstruing the motives of his mistress, aspersing her purity, and on THE HEROINE. 225 every decent occasion^ picking a quar- rel with her. He must hunt her iroin castle to convent, and from convent to cottage. He must watch under her window^ in all weathers, without ever taking cold, and he must save her life once at least. Then when he has res- cued her from the impending pj^ril, he must bend on one knee, sigh through the amorous gamut, and ask her to marry. If she knows her busiisess, she will refuse him ; upon v^ hich, he mi.st act the most heart-rending antxs^ sum- mon planets^ grow pathetically fretful, w^rithe with grace, and groan in me- lody. To sum all, if such an animal as a Hero ever existed on earthy he would certainly be something between a monkey and an angel." " It a Hero ever existed!" cried !• K 5 §26 THE HEROINE, '' if he ever existed ! i/'/^ Well, well, what infatuation ! And so. Sir, your's is one of those distorted nninds, which deny that Heroes ever existed on earth/' " It has the misfortune," said he. *' Then," cried I, " you will pro- bably be somewhat surprised, when you learn,— -since you provoke me to it — that so far from there being no Hero on earth, there is one in this very room, at this very moment. Here, Sir, is a Hero; and let me add, as in- controvertible a Hero as ever breathed a sigh. Nay, notwithstanding the very unpleasant drollery of your counte- nance, 1 will condescend so far as to inform you, that he is the actual in- heritor " *' Plush !'* whispered Montaiorenci, THE HEROINE. 227 " Never fear," said I. '' I will not commit myself. The actual inheritor of a Gothic castle, situated on a beet- ling rock, and lashed by a certain Ita- lian gulph, which shall be nameless." " Has he told you so ?" asked Stuart. " Certainly," answered I. " Oh, I have it from the best authority." '^ Why then, noble unknown," cried Stuart^ " since Grundy must be but an assumed name, may I beg your real name ?'' " My name is Norval on the Gram- pian hills!" said his Lordship, with infinite humour. " And pray. Sir," said Stuart, as- suming a severe countenance, " what name does that man deserve, who per- sonates one of those imaginary Heroes, in order to play upon the passions of 228 THE HEROINE. an innocent girl, and to make her harmless illusions become the fatal in- struments of her destruction ?'' Here an unpleasant pause took place, and his Lordship appeared unaccount- ably agitated. " What is the matter with you ?" whispered I to him. " For shame, my Lord. Never suffer him to bear you down.^^ " I take it, Sir,'* cried his Lordship, turning towards Stuart, " 1 take it — or rather I give it — I give it, Sir, as my decided opinion, that — you are no —Hero 1" " And yet," said I, anxious to as- sist his Lordship at this crisis, " though Master Bobby is no Hero, 1 dare be sworn lie is a mighty good sort of a man.*' THE HEROINE. 229 " Oh, a decent, proper-behaved yoinig p'jrson, no doubt," cried his Lordship. '' An honest bon diable !" cried I. " A respectable citizen !" cried he. " A loyal subject!" cried 1. " A humane and pious Christian 1" cried he. This last hit was irresistible, and both of us burst into laughter, while Stuart sat silent, and even affected a smile. '' Now is your time,'* whispered I, to his Loidsliip. " Another sarcasm, and your victory is decisive." " 1 tancy, Master Bobby," said his Lordship, facing round upon Stuart, and laughing so long, that 1 thought he would never finish the sentence; *' I fancy, my tight fellow, you may now knock under!" 250 THE HEROINE. " I am not always inclined to knock iinder^ as you elegantly term it/* an- swered Stuart ; " neither am I often provoked to knock down." "^ Knock down whom?" demanded his Lordship, with the most highly- finished frown I had ever beheld. '' A puppy/* said Stuart coolly. '• You he!'' vociferated our hero. *' Leave the room, Sir,'* cried Stuartj, starting from his seat. Montmorenci rose, retreated towards the door; — stopped — went on — stop- ped again — moved — stopped — " J tell you what," said he, " if you want satisfaction, I am the manner of man that will accomm«)date yon. I am none of your slovenly, slol>bering shots. Damme, 1 scorn to pistol a gen- tleman about the ankles. 1 can teach the young idea how to shoot, damme.^' THE HEROINE. S31 (( Vanish!" cried Stuart, advancing. His lordship vanished. i ran, snatched a pen, and wrote on a scrap of paper. " Vindicate your honour^ or never appear in my presence AG^IN." I then rang the bell, and bade the maid deliver the paper to him. During half an hour, I remained in a state of the most distracting suspense, for he never returned ! Meantime, Stu- art was privately pressing me to leave my lodgings, and remain with one of bis relations, till Wilkinson should be found- Indignant at the cowardly con- duct of his Lordship, I had ahnost con- sented ; when on a sudden, the door flew o])cn, and with a slow step and majestic deportment, Lord Aitamont 232 THE HEROINE. Mortimer Montmorenci entered. There was a dead silence. He walked to- wards Stuart, and fell upon one knee before him : *' I come, Sir,'' said he, *' to retract that abuse which I gave you just now. I submit to whatever punishment you please ; nor shall I think my honour re-established^ till my fault is repaired. Then grant me the pardon that 1 beg, on whatever conditions you think pro- per.'^ " ^Tis granted, my hero,'* said Stuart. " Hero !'' exclaimed 1, with an in- dignation which I could not suppress. *' He a hero?" His Lordship instantly snatched a book from his pocket, and openino^ a passage, presented it to me. I'he book was La Nouvtlle Heioise, TilE HEROINE. 233 ^i You see there," said he, " how Lord B., after having given St. Preux the lie, as I did Mr. Si.uart, begs for- giveness on his knesSj and in the pre- cise words which 1 have just used. Will Cherubina condemn the conduct that Heloise applauded ?'* " Ever excellent, ever exalted mor- tal!'' cried 1. "O thou art indeed, all that is just, dignified, magnanimous.'* I presented my hand to him ; he bowed over it. And now mirth ruled the night. The landlady laughed ; Montmorenci sang; Stuart utlered a thousand witticisms ; and even the poet, whom his lordship had amply plied with the grape, determined to be heard; for, in the midst of our merri- ment, I saw him, with his mouth open, and his neck stretched forward, reidy 934f THE IIEHOINE. to arrest the next moment of silence. It caiiie. '« This is the fim, Equalled by none ; So never have done !'* cried the uncouth creature, and then protruded such an exorbitant laugh, as made amends for the gravity of his whole life. " You are a happy mortal,'^ said Stuart. " So i am happy,*' cried he, " and every thing seems to be happy, for every thing seems to be dancing 1*' He spoke, and rolled from his chair. Montmorenci carried him to bed ; Stu- art took leave ; and the landlady and 1 separated to our apartments. Think of Stuart, that never once THE HEROINE. 235 fixed his eyes on me, with a speaking gaze ! Nay, not only is the feiiow far from a pathetic turn Iiimseh", but he has also an odd talent of detaching- even me from my miseries, and of re- ducing me to horrid hilarity. It would vex a saint to see how he makes me laugh, though I am predetermined not to give him a single smile. But ^rlont- morenci, the sentimental Montmorenci, timely interposes the fine melancholy of his features ;~he looks, he siglis, he speaks; and in a moment 1 am recalled to the tender einotions, and to soft com- plaints of my deplorable destujy. Adieu. END OF VOL. I. II. Clarke, Printer, Well-street, Lomljii. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA '^t^'f f^ J -f ,%